Morning light filters through the leaves of the tree outside and into Kei's room, creating moving patterns across his bed. After lying awake for hours Kei's eyes are more than accustomed to the usually invasive sunshine and he has no need to hide away from it. His eyes are sore though, dry and itchy from staring into distant nothingness for long periods of time and short bouts of silent tears.
He's curled on his side, muscles aching not from last night's exertive practice – he's had more intense practice sessions – but from remaining in the one position for too long, his whole body perpetually tense as if physically trying to hold himself together. It's no use of course. He can't hold together what has already fallen apart.
It hurts. It hurts too fucking much to contemplate. Kei keeps his mind carefully numbed. It's easier. At least it is when he's curled up in bed, alone, and it's quiet and there is no one to expect normal human functions of him. Which is why he's never been less pleased to hear his brother's voice.
"Kei, wake up, wake up!" Akiteru calls cheerfully, opening the door and entering the room blithely. "It's the big day! First game, first game!"
Heaving a sigh, because Akiteru is right, Kei groans and straightens his body, muscles and joints complaining at the movement. Sitting up, Kei rubs at his eyes and carefully avoids looking at his brother as he surreptitiously moves on aching limbs to his wardrobe.
"I know, get out."
"Wow, rude, I thought I taught you better manners than that, young man." His brother's voice is light and playful, Kei can hear the smile in it. He's so excited to see Kei play today and, yet, it's all Kei can do to even get himself out of bed and to the game. Already the day feels surreal, like he's watching from far away.
"Going to follow me into the shower too or can I do that by myself?" Kei says, aiming for his usual light-hearted snark but falling pitifully short of the mark. It's really no surprise Akiteru notices.
"Woah, hey." Akiteru catches his elbow as he goes to walk past. Kei very pointedly doesn't look at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just—didn't sleep much. Can I shower now?"
He can see Akiteru's gold eyes roam his face, taking in his likely bloodshot eyes and the undoubtedly fucking miserable expression on his face. He can't hide from his brother. Even if he hadn't been crying, even if he'd slept even a merciful ten minutes, even if he could force a smile, Akiteru would know.
"What happened?" Akiteru asks, voice firm but filled with concern. Kei doesn't answer, simply staring at the soft, dark grey carpet under his bare feet and curling his long toes into it distractedly. "Is it Tetsu?"
He winces almost imperceptibly, a minor turn down at the corners of his mouth and a small line between his eyebrows for half a second. But it's enough.
"What did he do?" Akiteru asks instantly, accusation heavy in his voice.
"Nothing!" Kei snaps defensively with the instinctive need to protect Tetsurou.
"Kei, tell me—"
"I can't," Kei stresses, finally meeting his brother's gaze, willing him to understand. "I can't right now, Aki. I have two games to play today and I cannot think about—" Kei trails off, swallowing hard. "Not now."
Slowly, Akiteru nods, immense worry lining his features. "Okay. Go get ready, we'll leave in twenty minutes."
So he showers and dresses in a mechanical haze that reminds him of when he started playing with Karasuno. When he didn't care about basketball. When he didn't care about friends. When he had no motivation and didn't care about anything. That hole in his heart left by the gaping chasm of motivation he lacked is now there for an entirely different Tetsurou shaped reason.
Kei had known he was in love with Tetsurou, but he didn't know just how far he'd fallen until the rejection painfully tore his hands away from his eyes and exposed him to depth of it. It feels like he's falling eternally into a deep, dark abyss and instead of being carefully caught, plummeting further.
Drawing comfort from the knowledge that even those pathetic, troubling thoughts can't well tears in his eyes, Kei grabs his sports duffle and heads out to the car with Akiteru. As they drive, Kei can feel his brother's concerned gaze flicker to him every now and then, but Akiteru doesn't say anything. He doesn't even talk about the upcoming games and Kei doesn't want to think about how pitiful he must truly look to not be on the receiving end of his brother's purposely embarrassing banter.
The host stadium for the Regional Tournament is only twenty minutes from where they live and, thankfully, since Akiteru is coming to watch, Kei doesn't have to get on a bus with the rest of the team. Which gives him time to compose himself into something resembling his usual self before he has to see his friends, most of whom are far too perceptive, a trait he would usually appreciate.
They arrive at the stadium and Kei barely pays attention to the vast facilities as they make their way inside. Akiteru leads the way as they walk through crowds of teams and players gathered in the entrance. Seeing his red and gold uniform, some of them whisper as he passes, 'look, a Nekodani powerhouse player' and 'Nekodani will probably win as usual' and 'apparently they're all gay, maybe sucking down the D is the secret to success'. Kei barely has the energy to roll his eyes at their idiocy.
Dutifully reading maps and getting instructions from an event team member, Akiteru leads Kei straight to the Nekodani changing rooms as they are to play one of the first matches of the day. The rest of the team hasn't arrived yet so Kei sits down on one of the benches and Akiteru paces nervously, asking questions about their first opponent and if Nekodani is prepared. Kei wants to scoff and say something sarcastic along the lines of, 'no, we've been spending all those hours training doing pirouettes and singing scales' but doesn't have the energy and merely nods an affirmation. Kei can tell Akiteru desperately wants to ask if he's okay but doesn't. At least Akiteru's nosiness is mitigated by his ability to understand when restraint is truly needed.
The commanding sound of Coach Keishin's voice serves as a warning before the door opens and the Nekodani team, decked out brightly in their red and gold, enter the room. Kei lowers his gaze, even as his friends greet him enthusiastically, but the door closes behind them and Tetsurou isn't here. Lifting his head quickly, his eyes dart about the room, but that mess of black hair is nowhere to be seen.
Panic rises and twists in his gut uncomfortably. Akiteru seems to notice his reaction and then Tetsurou's absence.
"Hey Kou, where's Tetsu?" Akiteru asks casually, but Kei can see the worry in his golden-brown eyes. Renewed worry, for Tetsurou. Because his brother likes and cares for Tetsurou. Because his brother supports Kei and thought Kei should tell Tetsurou about his feelings. Because his brother thinks they would be good together and be good for each other.
Oh how wrong he was.
"Bro said he was driving himself," Koutarou answers, already unashamedly stripping and changing into his basketball uniform. He frowns. "Thought for sure he'd beat us here."
Reflexively, Kei reaches for his phone but pulls his hand back and curls it into a fist to stop himself. Swallowing down his unease, he focuses on getting changed; his shorts, his jersey, his kneepads, his sweatband, his socks and shoes and finally his sports glasses. He stares down at them where he holds them in shaking hands.
The door opens and Koutarou shouts, "Tetsu!"
Kei tenses and is grateful that he's facing away from the door. Getting used to being around him in bits and pieces will be easier. First, merely hearing Tetsurou's voice and then seeing him. He doesn't think he can do both at once.
"Hey, Tetsu, what the fuck is this?" Keishin's annoyed voice cuts starkly through the murmur of welcoming.
The room goes quiet except for the sounds of people shuffling through their bags. In the discomfort of not knowing what's happening, Kei is tempted to turn and see for himself, but at the sound of Tetsurou's uncharacteristically strained voice he's so very glad he didn't.
"It's nothing, it's fine," Tetsurou dismisses.
"'Nothing' my hairy ass," Keishin growls. "What did you do? What were you thinking? You could have seriously injured yourself!"
At that Kei turns and his eyes immediately fall to where Keishin is inspecting Tetsurou's hand. His favoured hand, broad and strong, has red welts and cuts spread over the knuckles, ugly and painful to simply look at. Kei knows, with sickening clarity, that this is fault. He made Tetsurou angry. He made Tetsurou do something stupid. He made Tetsurou hurt himself.
Without thought, Kei's eyes flicker up just as Tetsurou glances away from his hand and their gazes meet. Kei expected to feel angry again, to feel hurt, but all he feels is familiar warmth spread through his chest. And, stupidly, he expects Tetsurou's automatic, easy grin in return, but it never comes. Kei drops his gaze swiftly and turns back to face the wall.
"Are you sure it's okay?" Keishin asks, sounding uncertain. "We can rest you."
"No," Tetsurou says adamantly. "It looks worse than it is. I'll just tape it."
There is a pregnant pause before Keishin says, "Okay. C'mon guys, five minutes and we'll make our way onto the court."
Kei swallows hard, burying everything deep. He needs to. They have two difficult games to play and he can't be distracted by—He has to work alongside Tetsurou and he can't waste his energy worrying about things he has no control over. Awkwardness he expected and things he can't fix.
Clenching his fingers tight around the band of his glasses, Kei sucks in a deep breath and forgets the pain. His muscles loosen and he fits his glasses on his head.
"I'm going to find a seat," Akiteru says, watching Kei carefully. He simply nods mutely in response. "You've got this, I believe in you."
Despite everything, a smile pulls at Kei's mouth and he watches Akiteru leave, knowing that no matter what happens his brother will be proud of him.
The half-time siren sounds and Kei rests his hands on his knees and stares down at the polished wood floor as he attempts to catch his breath. He can see the tremble in his legs and hands and wonders how he's still standing upright; his breath shudders painfully in his lungs and he wonders why he's still on the court. He feels weak and his skin prickles uncomfortably as his teammates walk past, their hurt and confused eyes like a physical, mortifying touch.
Kei straightens but doesn't allow his eyes to wander to his teammates, who are filing slowly, lethargically out of the gym and back to their designated locker-room. Instead, his eyes meet those of Akiteru, which is possibly an even worse idea. His brother looks uncertain, sitting on the edge of his seat stuck between want to comfort Kei and giving him space. The answer is space, so Kei shakes his head minutely and follows after his team. Akiteru obeys, watching after Kei helplessly.
The first game had been an intense, heart-in-mouth close call. Nekodani won by a mere two points through Koutarou's sheer force of will. Keiji has been the ever reliable mastermind but through no fault of his own he's working with dysfunctional puppets. Shouyou has been helpful but not influential. Tetsurou has been overly aggressive in his plays, almost getting himself removed from the court, but his strong defence stopped the opposition from scoring the final nail in their coffin and allowing Koutarou to score an impressive buzzer-beater. Kei has been… His jaw tightens painfully.
They're losing their second game. Brutally. Twelve to thirty-one.
Kei trails after his team, barely lifting his feet for the seeming impossible effort of the task. He doesn't want to go into that locker-room and yet he follows, off to face the music because he's let them down. He's let his team down. It makes him sick to his stomach and yet he can't feel it. He can't feel anything.
The door closes behind him. Keishin and Tadashi haven't come with them so the room is silent aside from the harsh, heavy panting of exertion. They all refuse to look at him, except for Tetsurou, who turns to glare at him as he slows in the middle of the room.
"What the fuck was that, Kei?" Tetsurou asks, spitting his name with venom he never wanted to hear, with venom he never thought Tetsurou was capable of.
Swallowing hard, Kei turns slowly to meet Tetsurou's furious dark gaze. Without thought, without acknowledging the fact that, as his Captain, Tetsurou's frustration is fairly placed, all of Kei's natural defences fly up.
He smirks. "And here I thought you were well-versed in the game of basketball, Tetsurou."
Tetsurou's lip twitches. "You're losing the game for us, you realise that right? I mean, sure it's a team sport, but you haven't done anything. You're better than this, Kei. Please, for the love of fuck, just do something."
Kei rolls his eyes. "Probably should just bench me then."
"We can't," Tetsurou says, his voice pleading as his expression softens. "We need you."
A sharp breath rushes out and Kei feels like his can't breathe. All he wants to do is concede, everything inside is screaming at him to acquiesce, to listen to Tetsurou and do anything he asks. Because Kei would, Kei wants to. He trusts Tetsurou and he knows Tetsurou is right. But, in that is pure, unadulterated pain because he knows Tetsurou doesn't feel the same. He knows Tetsurou will never give him the same.
"You clearly don't," Kei says, his voice overwrought with vulnerability and meaning beyond that of the game.
Tetsurou heaves a deep breath and bows his head, his eyes angry and desperate as he looks back up. "Just play basketball, Kei. That's all we ask," Tetsurou begs through clenched teeth.
Kei snorts a laugh. "It's just a fucking game, isn't it Tetsurou?"
Disbelief and rage chase each other furiously across Tetsurou's face as his seemingly impenetrable barrier of cool disintegrates. Cold fear washes over Kei and before he can even process Tetsurou's fury, Tetsurou grips his jersey and slams him back against the lockers with a resounding screech of metal.
"If this is you taking it out on me then find another way!" Tetsurou growls, low and threatening, pressing Kei firmly against the locker with no escape. "Don't force the problems between us on them! They deserve better than this Kei, and you know it!"
Kei carefully keeps his expression impassive, his jaw stubbornly set, but in the silence that follows he feels himself crumbling. He feels shame, embarrassment, guilt. Tetsurou's right, his friends don't deserve this. Resigning himself to this, to his need to do better for them, Kei let's all the anger and resentment fade away.
Relaxing against Tetsurou, it finally registers how close they are. Closer than they've ever been, closer than the shoulder ride incident, closer than he should be comfortable with if he could be fucked containing his desire anymore. Tetsurou's body is warm with exertion and hard with muscle, he's strong and it feels far too good. Too tired to care, too tired to stop himself, Kei's gaze moves down from Tetsurou's dark, dangerous eyes to his lips. He feels Tetsurou tense, probably making him uncomfortable again, but he doesn't move away.
Strong hands pull Tetsurou away. "C'mon Tetsu, let's go for a walk bro, go get some air," Koutarou says, his voice surprisingly pacifying as he pulls a suddenly pliant Tetsurou out of the room.
Kei stares down at the ground once more, the others milling about quietly, whispering to each other awkwardly and trying not to disturb him. They rest and drink energy drinks and dry the sweat from their bodies. By the time their break has passed Keishin still hasn't come, Tetsurou and Koutarou haven't returned and Kei still hasn't moved.
With a murmur of "We should probably get back out there," the rest of the Nekodani team leave. Kei can feel eyes on him; a calm, quiet presence lingering in the room and he knows who it is even before his monotone voice breaks the silence.
"What did he do?" Keiji asks, his voice smooth and without accusation despite the words.
Kei shakes his head slowly. "I can't."
"I understand. But whatever occurred between the two of you, Tetsurou's right. You shouldn't take this out on us," Keiji says bluntly. "Especially Koutarou. This is his last year Kei, he needs this for his future, and I know you'll never admit it but you care about him and want it for him too. You probably still even want it for Tetsurou, even if he hurt you."
He nods, eyes prickling with tears he refuses to shed and he bites his lip to hold them back. Keiji's right; it's just that simple. Kei sucks in a deep breath and lifts his head to face his friend.
"Will you help me?"
Keiji smiles, small and soft and somehow wickedly dangerous. "What do you have in mind?"
Tetsurou stumbles over his feet as Koutarou pulls him out the side entrance of the stadium and out into the cool air. He can still feel Kei against him, he can still see those pained golden eyes and the uncharacteristically resigned expression on his pale face. It hurts. To see Kei like that. It feels like someone is pressing down so hard on his chest that he can't breathe.
He knew it would be bad, that today would be an awkward mess. But it's so much worse. Tetsurou never expected to feel so fragmented and unsure of himself. He woke up feeling dazed and lost; like he's been watching himself heedlessly react to things from afar. Like he's wearing someone else's itchy, uncomfortable skin and he doesn't know who he is anymore.
He never thought he would be the person who hurt his friends. He never thought he would be the person who lashes out recklessly. He never thought he would be the person who makes such idiotic and self-deprecating decisions that only make him feel like complete shit. He never thought he would be the person who is so blind to everything around him.
He never thought he could hate himself this much.
"What the hell has gotten into you?" Koutarou questions, his frown smoothing out into a wide-eyed concerned expression as he turns to face Tetsurou. "Tetsu… Are you okay?"
Inhaling a shuddering breath that breaks into a sob, Tetsurou understands the fearful worry on his best friends face. He can feel the hot tears stinging in his eyes and the cold trails they've left on his cheeks. He can feel the intense trembling in his extremities and the heavy, gut-twisting sickness in his stomach.
Tetsurou shakes his head. "No. I fucked up Kou. I fucked up and I don't think I can fix it."
Koutarou swallows hard and nods helplessly. "Okay… Is it—Did something happen with Tsukki?"
Miserable laughter bubbles up his throat and he crouches down as his legs almost give up from under him. Nearly overbalancing, he reaches out to steady himself and he hisses through the pain flaring across his knuckles.
Staring down at the tape over the affected hand, he remembers the intense burst of pain as he slammed his fist into his wardrobe door this morning and the sickening ache that followed as the angry adrenaline faded. Waking without the haze of confusion and lust, waking after soft dreams of warm lips and pale skin and waking to the clarity of what he'd done… It had all been too much. A disgusted rage had burned through him and destroyed what remained of his restraint.
It hurt. It still hurts.
He deserves to hurt.
"Shit, okay, just—breathe. Just breathe, Tetsu. In and out."
Koutarou's strong hand rubs circles against his back and, despite Koutarou's awkward unease, Tetsurou follows his instructions obediently. It helps. Just having him here helps. And with Koutarou's soothing presence Tetsurou manages to calm himself. Sucking in a deep breath, he straightens.
Tilting his head back, Tetsurou gazes up at the dark, cloudy sky; all day those looming clouds have promised rain but not a single drop has fallen.
He's been selfish. Even this, his outburst and needing to be dragged outside to calm down, is selfish. Some Captain he is. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how lost he feels; Tetsurou needs to quash the swirling maelstrom of emotion inside and focus. This game is important. If Nekodani loses they can't go to the State Championships. If they can't go to the State Championships, Koutarou – and, to a lesser extent of care, himself – cannot get their final chance to be scouted. If Tetsurou cannot pull his shit together, he'll let down his friends and his team. And that is something he refuses to allow happen.
"I believe we have a game we need to win," Tetsurou declares softly, meeting Koutarou's worried yellow-brown eyes with a small smile. His worry transforms into a concerned sort of determination, the kind he gets when he's contemplating basketball strategy.
"Yeah we do," Koutarou says, nodding sternly and marching back towards the stadium with Tetsurou following after him.
Bolstering himself with his best friend's powerful sense of willpower, Tetsurou resolves to do anything and everything in his capacity to win. His friends are too important. His team is too important.
Finding the locker-room empty, Tetsurou and Koutarou make their way back to the court in which their game is being played – or, rather, is having a break from being played. The large digital numbers of Nekodani and Nohebi's scores glare at him as they enter, bright red and affronting. Both teams are huddled on the sidelines and Keishin looks up with irritated relief as Nekodani's two Captains return. His teammates eye him warily, worriedly, as he joins them. Kei doesn't look up.
"Okay guys, we're under some kinda heat now," Keishin says, his voice loud and commanding, speaking the unavoidable truth. "We're nineteen points down, but that is in no way an impossible gap to close. Nohebi is a clever team and they've been playing well on our weaknesses. We need to work our way around them, defend all exploitable weaknesses by moving faster, passing harder and playing smarter. We have to make some structure changes though, sorry Kei, you're on the bench for the second half."
Guilt twists instantly in Tetsurou's stomach and his eyes widen as he glances up at Keishin in surprise, though he really should have seen it coming. He looks over at Kei, instead of observing the defeat that has been slumping his shoulders all day, his shoulders are squared and his gold eyes burn with a familiar fierceness that takes Tetsurou's breath away.
Kei's jaw clenches with effort and he says, "I understand why, but please give me another chance."
Keishin sighs heavily, saddened by his own decision. "Sorry Kei, I can't just—"
"Tsukki's playing," Tetsurou asserts without hesitation, unwavering faith blazing through him. He's not playing without Kei. "We need him."
Without waiting for a response, Tetsurou notices the Nohebi team moving onto the court and turns on his heel to do the same.
"Jesus, fine," Keishin says, sounding slightly abashed to have his decision turned over so flippantly. Tetsurou will apologise later, though he already knows Keishin isn't bothered. "You have ten minutes, Kei. You have one chance. Turn this freaking game around. Go on."
Tetsurou hears his teammates follow him onto the court but his attention is drawn to the boy with the sleek brown hair sneering at him. Nohebi's Captain, Daishou, has ever been an epic fucking thorn in Tetsuou's side, but today he's especially biting. Of course it had to be today that they were playing the most notoriously devious team in their region. Of course it had to be today that Tetsurou has no patience for the little games Daishou likes to play with him.
It was Daishou's remarks after the first half of the game – luckily no one else heard – that sent Tetsurou off the edge. He'd hissed about Kei, about how useless he was and asking why he was even part of the team. Tetsurou knows, better than anyone, how good Kei is and that he probably even deserves to play on a better team. Kei's performance today has been nothing short of maddening, making Tetsurou want to shake him and ask 'why? Why, for the love of God, are you not playing with any effort?'
But he knows the reason. He knows why.
It's Tetsurou's fault after all.
"Wonderful to see all the queers back in one piece, if not a little shaken, poor little lambs…" Daishou says, his voice sickly sweet and laced with thinly veiled venom. "Interesting to see you haven't taken the pretty blond, but no less useless, homo off-court though. All the better for us, I suppose… Could at least make it a little exciting for us Tetsurou."
Tetsurou's hand curls into a fist and the pain across his knuckles only serves to make him angrier. He's about to snap back, or possibly do worse, when Koutarou speaks.
"Hey Tetsu, do you hear something?" he asks, voice filled with mock confusion.
Feeling the reliable, steady presence of his best friend nearby, Tetsurou feels himself physically relax and fall back into his easy-going self. He feels the smile desperately wanting to curve at his mouth but, for the sake of pissing off people he loathes, Tetsurou keeps his expression carefully impassive, playing along with delight.
"Hmm, now that you mention it," Tetsurou says slowly, scrunching his face up with thought. "I do hear the repulsive hissing of some spineless, slimy snakes."
"Oh look, the cat's got his tongue back," Daishou smirks, his eyes almost completely closed with the effort of the fake smile. "Also, all snakes have are spines and they're certainly not—"
Shouyou groans loudly, his round face contorted into an exasperated grimace. "Why is the gross snake still talking?"
Pride swelling for his teammates, for the fact that even the slightly socially inept Shouyou has picked up his propensity for sarcasm and antagonism, Tetsurou grins and feels a tight knot of tension in his chest loosen. Koutarou and Shouyou are their usual tenaciously determined selves – even if Koutarou threw a hissy fit in the first quarter, he quickly bounced back – and Keiji looks as serenely calculating as ever. Kei, fire returned to his eyes, is standing strong, Daishou's words utterly ineffective.
They can do this. They can come back and win. They have more than enough skill to crush Nohebi, they just have to bring it together and work together. They have to push aside their personal problems and concentrate on their goal. If anyone can do it, it's this team. Tetsurou's team.
The whistle blows and the referee strides into the centre for jump ball. Rolling out his shoulders, Tetsurou bends his knees and settles himself into the zone. His attention becomes acutely aware of the court, the players from each team, their positioning and movements and nothing else.
The ball flies up into the air and Tetsurou pushes himself upwards, timing his jump perfectly to tap the ball down at its apex, giving his opponent no chance as most players aim to tap on its downward trajectory. The ball is pushed perfectly into Keiji's hands and they're all off, racing towards the hoop.
Except Kei.
Tetsurou feels his heart sink, disappointment washing over him, but pushes himself forward. Koutarou and Shouyou are ahead of him, charging towards the scoring zone but their opponents are keeping up with them easily. Keiji is moving quickly alongside him, expertly dribbling and evading Daishou, giving Shouyou and Koutarou time to shake their opponents and giving Tetsurou time to get into the scoring zone. Or so he thought.
With a perplexed intake of breath, Tetsurou watches Keiji pass the ball backwards without even looking, to Kei who waits at half-court expectantly. Tetsurou feels himself lurch to a stop with the Nohebi point-guard who is visibly torn between guarding his opponent and the amused knowledge that it doesn't matter because Kei will have to come closer to shoot, he can't shoot from—
Kei raises the ball above his head and bends his knees in that flawless, effortless shooting form Tetsurou admires. He sucks in a disbelieving breath and can almost hear everyone else watching do the same.
The ball floats through the air in a perfect arc and Tetsurou knows, from the moment it leaves Kei's fingertips, that it's going straight through the hoop. The swish of the net is pronounced in the held breath of awed silence, even with other games still being played on other courts around them.
"Holy shit," Tetsurou breathes, the words engulfed by the sudden uproar of cheering, Lev and Koutarou the loudest and easily heard over the cacophony.
The Nohebi players are slightly dazed and slowly make their way over for their throw in. Kei and Keiji bump fists but otherwise simply move into defensive position, seemingly indifferent to the riot they've caused and the inconceivable play they've made. Kei's bright eyes, with their usual questioning exasperation, flicker over to Tetsurou and for a moment he feels like all the pain between them is gone, a figment of his imagination. But Kei drops his gaze swiftly, biting at his bottom lip in a familiar display of insecurity, and turns his attention back to the game.
"Tetsu?" Koutarou questions.
Shaking himself, Tetsurou turns his mind back from the game, suppressing the desire to simply stand there are watch Kei for… well, forever. Grateful that the Nohebi players are even more shaken by the play than himself and are taking their time to throw in.
Well and truly having the carpet pulled from underneath them, Nohebi play with less cohesion and more trepidation. Their passes weak, their plays too simple. Shouyou intercepts and charges up the court, running circles around his opponent with unsurpassed amounts of energy as the game wears on. Keiji, who was actually well matched against a skilful – Tetsurou will begrudgingly admit, if never out loud – Daishou, is freed after Kei's incredible play, with Nohebi anxious any time the ball nears him. Koutarou plays with a blindly bright grin and leaps for slam dunks that would probably demoralise even some NBA players. And Tetsurou feels back in his element, motivating his team, getting rebounds and turning over the ball more often than not.
Nohebi continues to score, but Nekodani steadily closes the gap and five minutes from the end of the game, pull ahead.
"Tsukki!" Tetsurou calls in the last fifteen seconds, having gotten his fingers to a Nohebi throw in with a desperate – unnecessary – stretch that hurts his knuckles.
The pass lands firmly in Kei's hands and he shoots reliably from the three-point line. The arc is too high to fall through the hoop, but then Kei shot it that way on purpose. Moving with pure instinct – not subtle enough to keep up with Tetsurou, Keiji and Kei's complicated signal system – Koutarou leaps at the basket, grabs the ball as it rebounds off the backboard and slams it through the hoop. Their well-practice alley oop.
The final whistle sounds and Koutarou charges over to Kei with an enormous grin, jumping on him. Tetsurou winces with sympathy, knowing the weight of that level of excitement all too well, but also knowing that, despite his lean frame, Kei is sturdy enough to take it. Not only that, but he deserves it. He deserves all the praise and excitement. Fighting back like that, after what Tetsurou did to him and after seeming so broken. Tetsurou doesn't think he could be prouder of Kei. Nor does he have the right to be.
Tetsurou's winning grin falls and he bends over his knees, only half-feigning exhaustion to hide his expression from his teammates, who come and pat him on the back in congratulations anyway. He can hear them, all around him, celebrating and cheering, gushing over the game, but he doesn't move.
"Tetsurou?" Keiji's smooth voice finally breaks through his gloomy haze. Tetsurou looks up to see concern in those dark green eyes. "Let's go back to the locker-room."
There is no question in his words, nor a command, but a simply stated sentence of reason. Tetsurou follows after Keiji without thought, understanding, without knowing how or why and without caring how or why, that Keiji knows. He always just knows.
In the locker-room, most of his team are chatting happily about the game as they get changed out of their sweaty clothes. The second-string, with an easier draw, finished their singular winning game of the day and joined the rest of the team during drinks break through the second half of the Nekodani – Nohebi game. He can feel the worried glances of his friends, Koutarou and Keiji, knowing something is wrong, and even Kenma who he can feel watching him as well as keeping up a conversation with an exhilarated Shouyou.
As Tetsurou follows suit and slowly gets changed, he's intently focussed on listening to Kei's grumbling complaints as he tries to get changed while Tadashi and Akiteru enthuse animatedly over his game.
"Alright, let's get going Kei," Akiteru says, his voice light with happiness and his smile discernible in every word.
"I'm coming with you," Tadashi asserts quickly, voice wavering with tension and concern. Kei doesn't even complain about it as he usually half-heartedly would.
The locker-room door opens and Akiteru and Tadashi's excited babble fades out of the room but Kei's stopped by his proud coach.
"Well done, kid," Keishin says, his voice low and rumbly with emotion he reserves for important moments. "I knew you had it in you. Just—don't scare me like that again. And—shit—let's work on those half-courters, yeah?"
Kei mumbles an abashed affirmation and then Tetsurou hears the door open. An ache settles in his chest at the thought of Kei's sudden absence and he consequentially turns to gaze at the door. But Kei's still there, frozen with his hand on the door and staring back at him, and as their gaze's meet something sharp and agonising tears through him.
Then Kei is gone and Tetsurou feels like all the air has been punched out of his chest. He stares at the door in which Kei disappeared, blaming it for taking Kei away. But, really, the only one Tetsurou has to blame is himself.
"—surou…?"
"Hey, Tetsu!"
Tetsurou blinks to find the locker-room is almost empty, except for Koutarou, Keiji, Keishin and himself. Remembering himself, Tetsurou pulls on his Nekodani sweatshirt and slides his feet roughly into his sneakers.
"Tell Keish that we're going back home with you," Koutarou prompts, his eyes wide with not-so-subtle indication to act normal, as if this is something that's already been organised. "So he can tick us off from his Responsibility List."
"Ah, yeah, yep," Tetsurou nods, slinging his bag over his, probably not the least bit convincing.
Walking out of the locker-room without even a farewell to Keishin, who exchanges a concerned look with Keiji, Tetsurou makes his way out to his car. Their second game of the day being later in the day, the stadium is now much quieter, only a few final games left playing on the courts and almost no one in the entrance ways.
Koutarou seems to keep up a one-sided conversation with Keiji – in that way only Koutarou can – as they follow Tetsurou out to his car. He can feel Keiji watching him, even as he utters vague responses to Koutarou, but Tetsurou doesn't say anything. If he does, if he even thinks about anything other than how tired he is and getting home, then he's not sure he'll be able to stop. He's not sure he'll be able to control himself. He can feel it, the tight, agonising knot of emotion that's been slowly coiling its way around his chest since last night.
His parents aren't home, Tetsurou can't remember why at this point, but he's relieved. Disappointing his friends will already be more than he can take.
Tetsurou sits at the end of his bed, forcing down big gulps of water from the bottle he grabbed on the way up to his bedroom. Koutarou's clearly nervous babble has quietened to uneasy silence as he sits on Tetsurou's desk chair and spins himself back and forth. Keiji stands, leaning against his dresser with his arms folded neatly over his chest and gazing at Tetsurou patiently.
"Tetsu," Koutarou says, unable to take the tension anymore, his voice uncharacteristically small and uncertain. "What happened?"
Tetsurou swallows hard, staring down at the plastic water bottle that's creaking in protest of his tight grip.
"Kei kissed me."
Koutarou gasps and splutters, "He—what? Like… in a gay way?"
Tetsurou narrows his eyes at his friend. "Is there another way for two dudes to kiss?"
"Well… like, family or on the cheek or—"
"He kissed me on the mouth and I'm almost certain I'm not related to him."
"But—he—you're straight… Tsukki knows that—"
"Koutarou," Keiji interrupts his boyfriend's confused, unhelpful rambling. Tetsurou doesn't blame Koutarou, he knows the feeling. "Kei told you he likes you, Tetsurou?"
He lets out a breath and nods. "Yeah."
I like you, Tetsurou. I have feelings for you, he can still hear the pleading in Kei's voice, begging for Tetsurou to reciprocate, or at least for some acceptance and understanding. Tetsurou squeezes his eyes closed and bows his head. Why couldn't he have just given Kei that? Why couldn't he have just stopped and breathed and thought?
Tetsurou's pulse races with the coming question.
"What did you do?" Keiji asks, gently and lacking accusation.
His throat feels dry, his stomach twists horribly at the memory. At his words. At that word.
"I said the 'F' word," Tetsurou mumbles, like a child who knows he's about to be scolded.
The room is silent and Tetsurou doesn't need to look up to see the shock and hurt and resentment on their faces, if one more expressive than the other.
"You fucking did what?" Koutarou yells, angrier than Tetsurou has ever heard him.
"You called Kei a 'faggot'?" Keiji asks directly, his voice dangerously toneless.
"Not… Not directly," Tetsurou says, wincing at the pathetic sound of his voice, the pathetic sound of the excuse. "Not that it excuses it. There is no excuse… I just—I didn't believe it, that he liked me. I couldn't—I told him that it wasn't true, that he couldn't. He asked me why… I said—I said 'because I'm not a faggot'."
Tetsurou gazes up at them this time, because he deserves their outrage and disdain. All of Koutarou's anger dissipates into the worst kind of dejection Tetsurou can imagine and Keiji's expression is so carefully controlled he can feel his distress in how much he's trying not to show it.
"I'm sorry," Tetsurou says, his voice breaking with the raw emotion that's drowning him. He's not crying, but there is a hysterical edge to his voice as he rambles, begging for forgiveness with his excuses and apologies. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I was confused and upset and angry. You know I love you guys, you know I love everything about you and you know I want nothing but the best for you and for you to be happy. I didn't mean it," he repeats, pushing his fingers forcefully through his hair and doubling over. Breath ragged and short with overwhelming distress. "I just said it and I can't take it back, but I would. For Kei, for you guys, for Ken and Shou. You know that I don't—that I think you're all amazing and—"
"Tetsu. Tetsu, stop," Koutarou says, surprisingly stern as he sits on the bed beside Tetsurou and pulls his hands from their painful grip in his messy black hair. Koutarou puts a warm arm around him. "Of course we know," he says, voice quiet and sincere. "You're the most fucking loyal friend in the God damn world, how could we not know?"
Tetsurou glances up into Koutarou's worried expression and then up at Keiji.
"You're not mad…? You—You forgive me?"
Keiji levels the softest expression at him. "People make mistakes, Tetsurou. People say stupid things that they don't mean. You don't need to ask for our forgiveness because you're our friend and we love you and you already have it."
Relief spreads through him, easing some of the aching tension in his muscles. Seeming to feel him relaxing, Koutarou rubs soothingly at his back again. Tetsurou is so lucky to have such amazing friends. He doesn't know what he'd do without them. He would be so lost. He doesn't even want to think about it.
"What did Tsukki say?" Koutarou prompts.
Tetsurou heaves a sigh, the knot inside him unwinding slightly as the worst part to tell his friends is out of the way. "Nothing. He just left. I tried to go after him but he wouldn't get in the car. Understandably."
"Probably for the best," Keiji muses. "Sounds like you were both far too emotional for further confrontation. So you went home and… punched your wardrobe?" His eyes roam to the dent in the white painted door.
Tetsurou grimaces. "No… That happened this morning. I didn't—I didn't come home straight away…"
"Oh God, what did you do?" Koutarou questions, pulling his leg up onto the bed to face him.
"I…" He winces. "Contacted Ana."
"No," Koutarou groans dramatically, drawing out the sound, long and pained, and head-butting Tetsurou's shoulder. "Why? Why, oh why, oh why would you do that? You can't just fuck away the gay you know."
Tetsurou snorts, amused despite the unfortunate circumstances. "Apparently not."
Koutarou's head lifts abruptly, his eyes narrowing. "What does that mean?"
"Well," he starts, sucking in a deep breath. "I had Ana in the car, being her usual pushy self, and I just couldn't stop thinking about Kei. She was kissing me and all I could think about were his lips. She was on top of me and all I could think about was his pale skin and the freckles across his nose and how solid he is and his light brown eyes and soft blond hair and… what?"
As he spoke a broad smile slowly spread its way onto Koutarou's expressive features and a small, knowing smile curled its way onto Keiji's mouth. Tetsurou feels a, not entirely unpleasant, nervous twist in his stomach. He hasn't allowed himself to think about what it means. About the way he feels about Kei. But their expressions are more than telling.
"You like Tsukki!" Koutarou accuses, pointing a finger and slapping a hand over his mouth as if he said something completely scandalous.
Tetsurou tries his best to keep a smile from his face but fails. "Of course I like Tsukki, I wouldn't be friends with him if I didn't like him."
"No! You like, like him! You're attracted to him!"
"Hmm," Tetsurou hums thoughtfully. "If that were true then I would have shoved Ana off me, told her to get out of my car, come home and jerked off thinking about him. Which, is… exactly what I did," he adds, mumbling.
Koutarou makes some high-pitched whine that sounds an awful lot like a dying bird. "Dude! You're—You're gay?"
Tetsurou frowns and scratches the back of his head. "I don't think so… I mean, I'm fairly sure I still like girls. Not, specific girls, but attracted to them, in general."
"I believe the term you're looking for is 'bisexual'," Keiji offers, smiling like he somehow knew all along. He didn't.
It's not the first time Tetsurou's heard the term of course, but it's certainly the first time he's heard of it in regards to himself. The first time he's considered it in terms of himself. Being attracted to both males and females. The thought makes Tetsurou uncomfortable though, even if his skin no longer feels like it belongs to someone else, even if he recognises it as a part of himself.
He frowns. "I guess… But I think, I'm mostly just Kei-sexual. I really only want him… Wow," Tetsurou breathes, huffing a laugh. It's the first time he's allowed himself to admit, even to himself, and is happily surprised by how freeing and right it feels. "I like Kei."
"That's why you didn't believe him," Keiji muses, almost to himself.
"What?"
Keiji meets his gaze, eyes knowing. "When Kei confessed how he felt about you and you refused to believe him. I think some part of you already knew, that you like him, and, knowing you, you refused to believe it because you think the world of him and don't think you deserve him."
There is no question in his words, they're spoken with such certainty that Tetsurou immediately knows he's right. Tetsurou thinks Kei is incredible, funny, skilled, intelligent, gorgeous, strong and mature. Tetsurou has a lot of wonderful friends, but Kei—Kei's special. How can someone that amazing like someone like Tetsurou?
He doesn't have time to contemplate his own self-depreciation though because the fact that he already knew how he felt about Kei hits him. Hard.
Tetsurou reaches back through the weeks and months frantically, searching for the moment, searching for the precise time that he developed these feelings for Kei. His mind races over training sessions and long walks to and from school, driving in the car and watching movies together, making Kei exasperated with his dramatics and playing video games. When all his friends got together for birthdays or training or lunch, how many times did Tetsurou deliberately seek Kei? How many times did he give the excuse of his other friends being 'couple-y'?
Rising to his feet as ice-cold comprehension creeps through his veins, Tetsurou paces.
He remembers meeting Kei, the cocky smirk during tryouts that, even more than his faultless shooting form, caught Tetsurou's attention. He remembers water-soaked Kei, getting into his car in the morning and taking off his glasses to wipe them clear, and how beautiful he thought those gold eyes were. He remembers Kei going out in the last of the summer heat to play basketball with him, to distract him and getting sunburnt for him. He remembers the adorable shocked expression on Kei's face when Koutarou kissed him in appreciation for standing up for Keiji and the uncomfortable twist in his stomach at the sight of it.
"Er, Tetsu?"
He remembers the fierce, burning need to protect Kei when Spencer had hisses nasty things about him. He remembers Kei's pale skin and golden blond hair illuminated beautifully by the glowing stars in Hitoka's bedroom as he thanked Tetsurou sincerely. He remembers Kei's long fingers curling around his hand as he massaged it, the small gasping noises of pleasure he was trying so hard to contain and the long delicious line of his neck as he tilted his head back, enjoying it. He remembers Tooru's discerning, knowing look when Tetsurou denied romantic involvement between himself and Kei. He remembers Kei's vulnerability and trust in revealing his past pain with his parents.
"I think you broke him…" Koutarou murmurs to Keiji who has gone to sit next to him on Tetsurou's bed to avoid his manic pacing. "Should we do something?"
"No, I think he just needs a moment," Keiji responds calmly.
He remembers holding Kei, strong and steady even after the emotional turmoil of newly disclosed secrets, holding him for long minutes and feeling so unbelievably comfortable. He remembers the irritable heat of jealousy when he learned of Kei and Koushi's previous relationship and taking it out on Kei like an absolute idiot. He remembers Kei's lips, bitten and swollen after every practice game at camp and Tetsurou's inability to stop staring at his mouth after Koushi purposely drew his attention to it.
He remembers Koutarou on his shoulders, trapping him against Kei, so close, their noses touching and the strange but desperate need to kiss him. He remembers Kei landing on top of him, sitting up, straddling his hips, the lovely long lines of his body and the instant heat of lust taking Tetsurou's breath away.
"Tetsu, stop pacing, you're making me nervous. What's wrong? Well—y'know, what more is wrong?" Koutarou asks.
"Oh, shit—fucking God!" Tetsurou mutters and stops dead, staring at them with wide eyes. "Holy hell, I'm fucking obsessed him! How did you two not notice this?"
Koutarou gasps, offended. "Us? How did you not notice?"
He sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth the mess he made of it before, more than the mess it usually is. "I thought I was just being a good friend. I've been so close with you guys for so long that I just didn't see it as abnormal… as anything more. But fuck! I'm so close to him! I've never… I don't think I've ever wanted to be so close to someone before."
A loud laugh rings out in the silence that follows Tetsurou's revelation and Koutarou smacks a hand over his mouth but it doesn't stop the fit of laughter from shaking through his whole body. Tetsurou frowns and looks to Keiji for reason but finds his green eyes sparkling with amusement he feels is completely inappropriate.
Tetsurou huffs, but has no energy to be annoyed. "This isn't funny."
"It's a bit funny," Keiji declares.
"Sorry dude, but it's fucking hilarious. You—You fell in love with Tsukki and you didn't even know it was happening."
He feels his face grow hot with embarrassment he's never felt before and his stomach squirms at the word, at the entire notion of being 'in love'. It's not something he considered but it hurts like it's possible; fresh wounds being pulled open and having salt rubbed in. He swallows hard.
"I don't think… I don't know that I—"
"You totally do! You totally love him!"
"Koutarou," Keiji warns, sensing Tetsurou's fresh wave of panic.
"What if he doesn't want to talk to me or see me?" Tetsurou asks under his breath, staring down at the dark carpet of his room wishing it had all the answers. "What if I can't fix it? What if he doesn't forgive me?"
"He's already forgiven you."
Doubtful, Tetsurou gazes up to meet Keiji's eyes but his expression is resolute. "How can you know that?" Tetsurou asks, barely above a whisper.
"The way Kei played today, after you confronted him in the locker-room. A lot of that was for the team, for me and Koutarou, but most of it was for you, Tetsurou. Even if he was hurting," Keiji explains frankly. "I saw it today, for the first time and with surprising clarity, how much Kei cares about you. I know what it's like to care about someone that much," he says, squeezing Koutarou's hand where they're laced together in his lap. "And I would forgive much worse than a stupid, emotional slip of words."
Tetsurou glances at Koutarou, who nods in agreement and gives him an encouraging smile. "It'll be okay, bro. It'll probably just take, like, a lot of grovelling."
He laughs. "I'm completely willing to do that. To do anything. I just want… I just want to be with him."
Feeling oddly calm, if a bit raw from the emotional overload of the last twenty-four hours, Tetsurou allows himself to relax. He likes Kei. Kei likes him. He hurt Kei, he didn't mean to and he wants to—needs to apologise. Not for himself, not so that he can be with Kei, but for Kei, because he doesn't deserve what Tetsurou did to him.
Though it would be a lie if he said he didn't hope that he could repair their relationship enough for Kei to at least consider being with him. That's not important. Not yet.
"I need to go apologise," Tetsurou says decidedly.
"No, you can't," Keiji asserts firmly, shaking his head. "Not today, Tetsurou. Kei is likely still hurting and you need to give him some more time. Just wait until tomorrow."
Tetsurou sucks in a deep, fortifying breath, because he knows Keiji is right, but everything inside him is begging him to go apologise. It's only early in the evening and he's not sure he can resist the urge. Tetsurou is already missing Kei, which sounds ridiculous, but with this apparently-not-so-new yearning inside him, he just wants to be close to Kei.
"Okay," he allows, flopping down bodily onto his bed. "Don't mind me, I'll just be here, brooding."
Keiji rolls his eyes – something he learned from Kei, Tetsurou thinks with a pang – but Koutarou responds, "Don't worry bro, we're not going anywhere. We'll distract you! Soon you'll be like 'Kei who?'"
Tetsurou squints up at him like he's stupid.
"Okay, maybe not," Koutarou says, face scrunching up in thought. "Think we can go raid Ken's games? I wanna play that one with the guns again."
"There are a lot of video games with guns, Koutarou," Keiji says. "You might have to narrow it down a little."
"You know, the one in the jungle… Or in the city… I can't remember."
Keiji sighs and Tetsurou watches their strange form of bickering with an amused smile but an ache in his heart. Aching for Kei. Because now he knows he wants this, he wants to be with Kei, more than he's ever wanted anything.
Tetsurou closes his eyes and summons Kei's voice in his head. I like you, Tetsurou. I have feelings for you. He listens to it over and over, clinging to the words desperately. Hoping, with every fibre of his being, that he's not too late.
Curled in his blanket that protects him from the fall morning chill, Kei stares up at the fluffy white clouds floating across the pale blue sky from the hammock in the backyard. Absently, he strokes Tux, who is curled up against his chest, purring like a motor. At least one of them is happy.
He's been here for hours but Kei can feel Akiteru's eyes on him again from inside, probably in the kitchen with long fingers curled around a hot mug of coffee. It's difficult not to feel it, the weight of all that worry. He understands it though. If it had been Akiteru curled up in a ball last night, crying, then Kei would be worried too. Though, Kei more inwardly so, where their personalities differ.
After exciting quite long enough about the game, Akiteru and Tadashi were quiet on the drive home while Kei stared out the window, keeping his mind carefully blank. As soon as Kei had walked in the door his composure rapidly deteriorated and he crumbled under the stress and hurt. He had curled up into bed and, through quiet tears, slowly explained to Akiteru and Tadashi what had happened with Tetsurou. They were clearly angry, but were more focussed on what hurt Kei the most, the rejection.
"Tsukki…" Tadashi had breathed, sitting on the bed next to him and not knowing what to say.
"Oh Kei, I'm so sorry," Akiteru said, smoothing a hand down his arm comfortingly.
"You know what the most pathetic part is?" Kei questioned, huffing a rueful laugh and swallowing against the tight pain in his throat. "I've already forgiven him."
Akiteru's eyes had grown wide, a tear trailing a shining line down his cheek. "Kei… Do you love Tetsurou?"
Yes.
Kei squeezes his eyes closed, unable to look at the sky anymore. Because thinking hurts, remembering hurts… Everything hurts.
Abruptly, he uprights himself, dislodging Tux with a hiss of complaint, and shuffles back inside in his blanket. Knowing he needs to do something, Kei takes a vigorous, far too hot shower. He scrubs at his body and pushes shampoo through his hair meticulously, concentrating on the process, concentrating on every movement of every step. Well-versed in avoiding painful thoughts and distracting himself.
When he goes back into his room his pale skin is red from the scorching heat of the water and a harsh scrubbing with a towel, and his hair is messy and still damp. Kei dresses in navy-blue track pants, a white t-shirt and his comfortable grey Adidas hoodie. He's halfway through lacing his black sneakers when there is a soft knock at his door.
Anxiety causes him to pause his efforts, fingers curling around the laces. He's knows it's Akiteru, but he's worried what his brother might say or ask or inform that there is someone here to see him, a friend here to check on him. Which was precisely why he's dressing to leave. Kei doesn't want to talk to them, he has no answers for them.
"Come in," he says, stubbornly forcing himself to calm and continue lacing his shoes.
The door opens slowly but Kei doesn't look up at Akiteru, who he can see in his periphery is standing tentatively at the threshold.
"Where are you going?" Akiteru asks.
"Out," Kei replies, picking up his basketball from its usual place on his desk.
Akiteru surprisingly huffs a laugh. "Didn't have enough basketball in those two stressful games yesterday? Be careful Kei, someone might think you're passionate about the game."
A smile tugs at Kei's mouth as he opens the front door. "Better keep this between us then. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"Okay, call me if you need anything."
To Kei's surprise, Akiteru turns his back and heads into his room, to likely do more work. He had expected his brother to be impossibly overprotective after last night, as he had been the first few weeks after the incident with his parents. There are still some worried glances and careful tiptoeing around him but nowhere near what he expected. It's as though Akiteru's worried about Kei but not the situation or perhaps he believes in Kei's ability to handle it.
No matter the reason, Kei is grateful for it.
By the time Kei reaches the nearby community basketball court it's about ten in the morning, and due to it being cold and a Sunday, no one else, except a few passing dog walkers, is here. He has the court to himself. Knowing he'll warm up quickly enough, Kei shivers as he shrugs out of his hoodie and places it on a bench along with his phone and keys.
Doing a lazy set of stretches and warm ups, Kei starts shooting, chasing the ball where it lands to keep himself warm. At first he shoots from the free-throw line and then from various angles along the three-point line, working himself backwards to half-court. It's all much easier without the pressure of defence, but Kei pushes himself, shooting over and over until he's sweating and panting.
It feels good, the familiar ache of muscle exertion and heaviness in his chest. Calculating angles and forces. His t-shirt sticking to his skin and hair to his neck and forehead. Cold wind soothing the heat of his skin and the calm quiet around him.
It clears his head. Makes him feel as though he's regaining some semblance of control and allows the sharpness of hurt to recede into a dull ache.
After an hour and a half of shooting, Kei sits down on the bench and stares up at the sky, sucking in deep breaths. He closes his eyes gently and relaxes for what feels like the first time in weeks. Because no matter what happened, no matter how horrible the outcome, he no longer has to pretend or hide his feelings. It's such a heavy weight lifted and eases some of the gut-wrenching ache of the fact that he probably won't be able to talk to Tetsurou anymore.
Kei has resigned himself to the fact that Tetsurou probably hates him, or, at the very least, will now be incredibly uncomfortable about his mere presence. Kei has resigned himself to the fact that their friendship will be eternally fractured because of what he did. Kei has resigned himself to the fact that their relationship will likely be merely basketball based, civil and cold. No more casual arm slung over his shoulder or early morning rides to school or teasing video game sessions or frustrating study—
"I thought I might find you here."
The familiar gravelly voice with that perpetually playful tone resonates through Kei and sends an uncontrolled jolt of warmth through him. His eyes open with surprise and he turns to see Tetsurou standing there, by the bench, a mere few feet from him. The first thing that registers is just how awful he looks, eyes tired and dispirited, hair more unruly than ever and those impossibly broad shoulders hunched in his baggy red sweatshirt.
Concern makes Kei's mouth fall open to ask 'are you okay?' but it immediately closes again because he so clearly isn't okay. And it hurts. Because it's Tetsurou. And no matter what, Kei just wants him to be happy. Kei just wants to see him smile.
Dropping his gaze from where he's simply staring at Tetsurou, completely dumbfounded, Kei looks down at his hoodie and shivers, remembering how cold it is now that he isn't running around. Focussing on something other than Tetsurou seems like a good idea, so Kei turns away to pull the soft material over his head.
"Can I—Can I talk to you…?" Tetsurou asks hesitantly. Kei's never heard him so uncertain before.
Sucking in a deep breath Kei forces himself to turn back to him, but refuses to look up, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. "I can't imagine I'd want to hear what you have to say."
"That's fair," Tetsurou responds, sounding forfeit. "But I need to at least apologise before you leave because, at the very least, you deserve an apology."
Kei's eyes snap up at the sincerity of his words. Tetsurou looks so vulnerable and small and Kei has to clench his jaw closed and tenses his body to fight back the need to comfort him.
"I'm so sorry, Kei," Tetsurou starts, his voice filled with so much despair it breaks. He takes a step towards Kei, hands twisting where they're shoved deep in his pockets. "I never wanted to hurt you. Which sounds," he laughs humourlessly, "stupid. I was confused and terrified—but that's no excuse. I never should have said that to you, not you, not after—just, never. You don't deserve it, Kei. You deserve to be treated so much better. And I'm so incredibly sorry."
A pained expression crosses Tetsurou's strong features and he bows his head, taking another step forward. Kei feels dazed, sucking in a quick, stuttering breath of oxygen to alleviate the prompting pain in his lungs. He expected an apology. Tetsurou is a good person, unshakably kind despite the reactive, emotional words he'd shouted at Kei. But he never expected the sharp, raw hurt in his voice. He never expected this… He never expected Tetsurou's pain to hurt more than anything, more than even the rejection.
"I understand if—if you never forgive me, I understand. But I needed to tell you—You need to know that you don't deserve to be treated that way," Tetsurou says, shaking his head slowly and gazing back up at Kei. His voice is quiet now as he's standing so close that Kei can see the redness of his eyes and sheer anguish in his expression. "Not by anyone. Especially not by people who care about you."
Kei has no idea what to say. He feels like he's falling apart all over again, for Tetsurou, and all he wants to do is hold him and tell him everything will be okay. All he wants to do is look after him.
"Tetsurou," Kei breathes, barely more than a whisper. Dark amber eyes flicker up to meet his gaze and Kei swallows hard. "I forgive you."
Tetsurou lets out a shuddering breath, his eyebrows knitting together in disbelief and eyes searching Kei's face. "What?" he asks, truly not expecting to be forgiven.
Worried about what he'll do with Tetsurou standing so close, so vulnerable, Kei ducks his head and shrugs idiotically. "I already forgave you. I know you didn't mean it. But—thank you."
Silence falls between them and Kei's about to look up to make sure Tetsurou's okay when he takes another scuffing step forward and his head slumps down against Kei's shoulder. Kei tenses at the sudden closeness and inhales sharply. Thick, black hair tickles his cheek as strong arms wind around his waist. And now Kei truly has no clue what to do because Tetsurou is just… everywhere.
"Shit, Kei, I'm so sorry," Tetsurou murmurs, sounding so relieved his words come out frantically. "I'm such an asshole, I fucked up so bad. I swear I will never do that again. I can't believe that you—fuck, thank you, Kei. I don't know what I would have done if you didn't forgive me."
Tetsurou trembles and Kei's arms naturally move to hold him, fingers tentatively smoothing around his sides and clutching at the back of his sweatshirt.
He's glad Tetsurou apologised but Kei can't help but feel apprehensive. As much as he wants to remain friends with Tetsurou, he's worried about having to control his feelings while being around him. Even though Tetsurou seems to at least tolerate Kei's feelings, it will be even more difficult to hide them now that he knows. It will be awkward. How can they ever be comfortable with each other?
Relaxing against Kei, Tetsurou lets out a huff, lifts his head and steps back, but not far. He's smiling now, and already he looks more like his usual laid-back, happy self; though there is a nervous tightness at the edges.
"Are you okay?" Tetsurou asks, frowning as he takes in Kei's expression. "I mean, you're allowed not to be. I was really hurtful and you can still be mad at me, for as long as you need, whatever you need."
"No, I—I'm okay. Surprised, but okay," Kei says truthfully, but awkwardly ducks his head because he needs to ask. "I just… You're okay with—I mean you don't mind that I…?"
He really doesn't want to have to say it, so he glances up at Tetsurou beseechingly. Tetsurou's frown deepens as he watches Kei and then clears with realisation, his nose scrunching with discomfort.
"Oh…"
Kei's stomach sinks and an embarrassed flush flares up his neck. "Never mind, it doesn't matter," he says, brushing past Tetsurou.
"Wait, Kei," Tetsurou says firmly, his hand catching Kei's elbow and turning him back to face him. "I didn't want to do this now, today. I just wanted to apologise and make sure you're okay, hoping, at best, that we're okay. We are, aren't we? I mean, I understand if—"
"Tetsurou," Kei warns from between his teeth.
"Right, um, okay." He takes a deep breath and meets Kei's eyes determinedly. "I like you, Kei."
Kei's eyes widen and he takes a step backwards, reeling. He feels like someone has punched him in the gut… or has poured a bucket of ice over him… or like he's so numb and disoriented that he's going to float away. But Tetsurou's strong fingers grip his elbow, grounding him.
"What?" Kei barely says.
Tetsurou smiles, warm and beautiful and affectionate. "Yeah, I really like you, Kei. I'm clearly the biggest idiot in the entire world because apparently I developed feelings for you without even realising. I mean, who does that? But, I'm happiest when I'm with you; playing basketball or studying or just talking shit. I think you're amazing and clever and funny and—fuck, really attractive, like beautiful. Which is… something I just said. Wow, I've never been this nervous before," he admits and huffs an awkward laugh.
"You like me…" Kei says slowly, extremely confused.
"Yes… That was the first thing I said." Tetsurou grins, amused. Despite his blinding panic, Kei can't help but feel relieved to see that stupid grin. "I really hope you heard the rest."
"But—you can't—you're straight."
"Apparently not so much. Bisexual, technically. But I don't really care about that because the only person I want is you."
Kei groans and pushes his fingers under his glasses to rub at his eyes. "This cannot be happening."
"Sorry, I know it's a lot, all at once. I really wanted to give you time before—"
Kei surges forward and embraces Tetsurou, forcefully enough to make him grunt and stop him talking. Which is good, because the words are deeply confusing and making his head spin. Tetsurou is speaking the truth, far too much of it, it's clear in his warm amber eyes and the casual sincerity of his voice. But Kei has no idea how to feel about it. He's happy and annoyed and furious and relieved all at once.
"Shut up," Kei mumbles.
Tetsurou only chuckles and buries his face against Kei's neck.
Even though new anxieties and reservations flicker through his mind, Kei feels inexplicably light and comfortable. Despite the cold, the heat that Tetsurou's body naturally radiates seeps into him and warms through his entire body. And, oh, how well they fit together. Being the same height – roughly – Kei had thought that might make it awkward, but it's not, it's so very easy. It feels right.
The small, hopeful parts of himself that he had quashed and ignored relentlessly are even surprised. Tetsurou likes him. Tetsurou likes him. It feels implausible, dream-like, but this is real. Tetsurou is here, holding him, telling him how amazing he is, how much he cares, expressing how sorry he is, immensely hurt on Kei's behalf and earnestly laying himself bare before Kei, selflessly giving Kei all the power without a second thought.
"I'm going to murder you," Kei remarks, completely lacking any bite.
"Seems to be the general consensus," Tetsurou murmurs against his skin. "You'll have to get in line. I'm at the front."
"Wouldn't be murder then," Kei says distractedly as Tetsurou straightens to regard him with a smile.
He's sure Tetsurou responds, knows he does by the movement of his lips, but can't hear the words through the delighted haze of just how close Tetsurou is. Mesmerized by how, despite looking exhausted, Tetsurou's amber eyes seem brighter as he gazes into Kei's and then, with a flutter of dark lashes, slowly move down to Kei's mouth. Kei's stomach muscles tightens in anticipation but neither of them move.
A blustering cold wind rushes around them, chilling up Kei's sweat-cold back and causes him to shiver violently. The nerves in Tetsurou's strong jaw tense and he steps away.
"Come on, you probably shouldn't be out in the cold. Especially since I just know you didn't do any stretches or a warm down," Tetsurou says, smirking.
Kei swallows back his disappointment and forces an eye-roll. "Were you born a forty-year old father?"
Tetsurou laughs, free and easy, the sound making Kei tingle with the knowledge that he triggered it. Without a word, Tetsurou holds out an expecting hand and Kei barely resists the instinctive urge to simply take it. He needs to ask, he needs to know for sure.
"Tetsurou, are you sure this is what you want? To be my—to be with me?"
"More than I've ever wanted anything, Kei."
Chest tightening around his rabbiting heart, Kei unclenches his fist and reaches for Tetsurou's hand, lacing their long fingers together and almost melting with the warmth as Tetsurou squeezes comfortingly.
"Okay."