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Air salonpas. The smell of a win.
This is what Shouyou can smell. He can see, too, right in front of him: a tall, dark figure. Number one on the court, Japan’s number one setter. He’s long and lithe, and he has perfect form. You can never tell where he is going to set the ball, it’s exhilarating, taunting. The other team, Brazil, has to wait. And if they wait too long, the ball will already be team Japan’s point.
The ball is in his hands. And Shouyou runs, pulls his arms back, and extends. He’s there and Tobio’s hands are there, too.
Bam. Or, maybe it’s a thwack. It’s hard to tell, with the ringing in Shouyou’s ears. 21–19, team Japan.
He—no, they have just won the Olympics.
-
There isn’t a precise date when they started dating. This upsets Shouyou, very much so—he can never properly celebrate their anniversary. Tobio amends it with this: the day they first met, Shouyou’s first and last junior high tournament.
It’s all right, celebrating their anniversary then. Not the best, though, because they got off to a rough start. The date doesn't embody their relationship well enough. Shouyou thinks there are dates that embody their relationship better. Anniversaries like this: their first kiss, or their second, the first time Tobio cried in front of Shouyou, the first time Tobio properly beat Shouyou in Mario Kart, the day they mastered their ultimate quick, the first time Shouyou managed to steal a bite of Tobio’s curry bun.
Dates like that, those are better.
-
It starts sometime during their second year of high school. The touches, the handholding, the looks, the hours spent by each other’s side. This, Shouyou thinks, is when their relationship begun. He narrows it down between September and December.
He knows this: the day he kissed Tobio for the first time. It was during the spring tournament in second year. Noya was crying about something, Tanaka was annoying Yachi with something weird, and everyone stank after a long and hard game. Shouyou's hand was getting taped after doing a block. Tobio's hair was matted down in weird places because he fell while trying to set a ball to Shouyou—he did, successfully.
And Shouyou never wanted to kiss him more in his life. It was incredibly poetic, then: wanting to kiss Tobio while he stank of sweat and tears, when he looked disgruntled. It was now or never, then: Shouyou couldn’t build up the courage before and he certainly couldn’t do it after. So, he kissed him.
And Tobio ran off in surprise.
But, that’s okay. Because he kissed him back at the end of the day, in the peace of their own hotel room.
-
Tobio, Shouyou finds out, is incredibly good at kissing. It’s almost upsets him, in his weird complexy way, because yet another thing Tobio is better at. But this time it’s okay. It’s to Shouyou’s benefit, at least.
Tobio is quick on the court, it takes him mere milliseconds to decide how to avoid the blockers, how to best set to Shouyou, how to make his team better. But when he kisses, he kisses slow. He starts like this: he gives Shouyou a peck, a small press of the lips. And then he deepens it, connects their mouths so they can taste everything.
It sounds disgusting. It is. Shouyou loves it.
He loves the way Tobio is gentle, the way his calloused hands hold his cheeks while he kisses him softly. Shouyou loves the way Tobio finds care in the way he kisses him, how he can bite—but then he soothes it over with a swipe of his tongue. How, when he is particularly lovey or overwhelmed, he wraps his arms around Shouyou and holds him there and kisses him. How he can stay grounded, how it seems like he can draw out kisses for hours. Shouyou never knows where one kiss ends and the other begins.
It’s impossible to tell with Tobio, he strings along his kisses and they lead into the next and the next. He only breaks for a breath, and then he kisses again.
This, Shouyou finds out, is something Tobio loves. He loves to kiss.
-
There are loud moments: moments when they’re happy, sad, angry. They don’t fight often—or they don’t fight seriously. There was one time, though, during university.
Shouyou isn’t sure who started the fight. It was probably him, knowing himself, but he couldn’t see it then. He remembers this: anger, anger at Tobio. It was over something stupid—this he knows. He thinks it started with curry buns, but. It escalated into hurtful jabs not soon after.
The fight ended with a noise complaint and broken promises—Tobio went as far to rip off his promise ring and chuck it at Shouyou. That was Shouyou's breaking point. He gave Tobio the promise ring during their third year of high school after a practice match with Dateko. They were huddled together under a large cherry blossom tree, taking a breath and holding hands. His mother told him the promise ring an idea a few months prior, but he never had the courage to give Tobio something that practically entailed a proposal, until then. So Shouyou presented the ring, shaped like a volleyball—of all things, and Tobio kissed him long and slow for that.
Tobio seemed immediately regretful, but Shouyou was already out the door with his belongings.
-
“Shouyou,” Tobio says, after a whole three hours apart. Shouyou’s holed up in Hitoka’s guest room. He’s pretty sure Hitoka is trying to drag Tobio away, but Tobio has 50 pounds of muscle over her, so. “Shou, open the door.”
Ugh. It’s hard denying the man you are madly in love with. “What,” Shouyou says then, making his word punctuated and positively irritating. That is his specialty, anyway—irritating Tobio.
“We’re not teenagers anymore. Let’s talk about our problems and work through them like adults.”
Shouyou realizes then that he is being immature—he knows he is. Tobio, the one who struggled to tell Shouyou his favorite color when they first met, is the one telling him to grow up. It shows how much Tobio has grown for Shouyou and how Shouyou needs to do the same.
So he steps off the bed and unlocks the door, dropping back down to the mattress so he can let Tobio deal with it. He’s still immature, anyway.
Tobio opens the door. He hasn’t been crying like Shouyou has, but he looks stressed. His neck in wrung red like he has been scratching it nervously.
Tobio steps inside and closes the door for privacy, even though Shouyou knows Hitoka isn’t the type of person to eavesdrop. Shouyou looks at his hands. He isn’t wearing his promise ring.
“We’ve never fought like that before,” Tobio says, like it isn’t obvious. Whatever. Shouyou turns his head to the side in an act of defiance, and he feels the bed divot. Tobio’s hands touch his.
“Yes we have,” Shouyou responds. “First year of high school. That was your fault.”
“I know,” Tobio says, sounding defeated. “Is it my fault now?”
Shouyou thinks. “Yes.” And then, “It’s both of our faults.” All over something as stupid as curry buns.
“Shouyou—”
“I don’t like fighting with you,” Shouyou says, interrupting Tobio. “Not just because it’s not fun, it isn’t, but you can be scary when you want to be. I don’t want to be afraid around you.”
“I’ll… I’ll work on my temper.”
“And you have to tell me when something is bothering you,” Shouyou responds, finally looking at him in the eye. “I can’t read your mind. And you like to close off.” Tobio neglects to respond, so Shouyou speaks again. “What about me?”
“What?”
“What do you want me to work on?”
“Shouyou, there’s nothing—”
“Don’t lie to me. This relationship will only work if we’re both communicating properly.”
“Well, first of all, stop interrupting me,” Tobio says, but judging by the glint in his eye, he’s joking. “And second of all, you’re a terrible cook.”
“What!” Shouyou squeaks. “I don’t even make dinner! That’s you!”
“Exactly.”
“Well—” This time, Tobio shuts Shouyou up with a kiss.
“Sometimes,” he says after a moment, “I just want to come home to my loving boyfriend with a nice meal on the table. But instead, you burn the toast and wreck the toaster. How is that even possible? It’s toast, Shou.”
Shouyou gives him a kiss then, he grabs his cheeks and plops a mwah at the corner. “I love you,” Shouyou finally says, smiling. “I’m sorry.”
-
There’s a hill in Sendai, a secluded area next to Shouyou’s old home. It’s beautiful and big and green and they frequent to run away from normal life. Living in Tokyo is scary, especially after university. They’re going to the Olympics soon, with the Japan national team, and it’s their first. They probably won’t even play, but—it’s the Olympics, so.
“Are you scared?” Shouyou asks his boyfriend, curled up against Tobio’s chest to watch the sunset.
“Scared that our apartment is a quarantine zone because you won’t pick up your socks? Yes.”
Shouyou rolls on top of Tobio and leans down to give him a quick peck on the lips. “No, stupid. Are you scared to play on the international stage? With the whole world watching us…”
Shouyou seems strangely bashful and embarrassed, like the idea of playing in front of millions of people is an unimaginable idea. But he has had years to perfect his volleyball form and skill and he’s amazing, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. “Why would I be scared? It’s just volleyball.”
“It’s just volleyball…” Shouyou breathes, sounding incredulous. “Is your head full of nothing but volleyballs?”
“I’m not scared,” Tobio says, sounding and looking serious. Shouyou loves that look, when he’s honestly thinking, because it doesn’t happen often. He has volleyball on his mind and nothing else. “You make me invincible. What else do I need?”
Shouyou beams, then. He’s brighter than the fading sun behind him. “I love you,” he says, leaning down to give him a kiss. “Since when did you get so romantic?”
“I’ve always been romantic.”
“Um, no. Anime dates in our underwear is not romantic.”
“I beg to differ—”
“Will you marry me?” Shouyou asks suddenly.
“What.”
“Will you marry me?” he asks again, his lip trembling. He seems so serious. “After we win the Olympics.”
“Why after?”
“I want to say I married an Olympic athlete.”
“Shouyou—”
“That’s not just it, though,” he says, sitting up on his feet. Tobio follows him. He’ll always follow him. “I was going to ask you, after we won. But who knows if we’ll even play, I mean we’re rookies. So, let’s get married after we play and win. And I was going to say something romantic, I swear, I had a plan with Hitoka—it was going to be here on this hill and I was going to have candles and like… I don’t know, cinnamon bears? Those are good, right? Whatever, I mean. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I’ve known for a long time… I mean, we’ve never really talked about marriage—but, we always say how we’re going to spend the rest of our life together and… I know that I want to spend it with you. Think of the tax breaks, Tobio!”
“What? You think I would only want to get married to you for the tax breaks?”
“You—you never really talked—”
“I hadn’t even thought that far enough into the future. I don’t even know what I’m going to eat for breakfast tomorrow.”
“I know, and I love you for that.”
Tobio grabs Shouyou’s face and kisses him hard. He loves this man, more than anything he’s ever loved before. “I want to,” he says after a few minutes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Shouyou smiles a smile so soft that it’s almost hard to see. He kisses his boyfriend softly, pushing his body back against the blanket. Shouyou nips and licks into Tobio’s mouth, running his hands up and down his biceps and forearms and everywhere he can reach. “I love you, I love you,” Shouyou mumbles into his boyfriend’s mouth, a chant that catches as a moan.
-
They lose the Olympics, their team does anyway. They’re twenty-two, fresh out of college, and they got in fourth. Not that bad, honestly, for their first time.
-
“We’ll win,” Tobio says against Shouyou’s mouth. He backs away so he can look at him in the eyes. It’s the eve before their second Olympics. Shouyou is almost twenty-seven.
“We’ll win so I can marry you,” Shouyou confirms. He’s smiling. Tobio kisses him again and pushes his body against his boyfriend. This is how he likes to kiss: slow and soft, grounded and there. He isn’t fast-paced or hectic, as much as Shouyou likes to try. It’s the opposite of volleyball, in this way, but it still makes his heart race.
-
They can’t kiss in front of the whole stadium—much less the whole world, so they settle for touching hands. Tobio is private like this, he keeps his relationships and life away from the national spotlight where they can shine. It’s not like he’s embarrassed of Shouyou—Shouyou is the only volleyball player who matches his pace. He’s scared, secluded. And not only that, he wants to keep Shouyou to himself.
It’s precious, his relationship with Shouyou. They fight, then they kiss, but it’s his. Tobio has never felt any other way about a boy, about a man, other than Shouyou. He’s the beginning and ending of Tobio, the volley to his ball. Without the other, one is incomplete.
He will have to settle for touching hands, for now. Perhaps the camera will catch it, and perhaps something will pop up on the internet, but for now it’s okay.
Tobio knows this: after the celebration, they will run back to their hotel room. It will end up in a stupid competition, and probably annoy other Olympic guests. Shouyou will take a shower because he can’t sleep. He will sing dumb Disney songs and Tobio will come in the shower with him. Maybe he’ll give him a stupid shampoo mohawk.
Tobio will get ready for bed and his boyfriend will be looking through a suspicious magazine that he’s been hauling around with him for months—a wedding planner. He thinks Tobio doesn’t know, but he does. Tobio will let him be oblivious perhaps a bit longer.
After, they’ll cuddle up on the queen bed—the other one is unused and has all of their luggage on it—and watch dumb Naruto reruns. Shouyou will fall asleep like this, crying about the chunin exams.
They’ll wake up in the morning without ever having put on the covers, a tangle of limbs where it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins. Shouyou’s breath will stink of morning breath but Tobio will kiss him anyway.
This is the life Tobio has come to love and learn, the one with Shouyou by his side.
And after this, they’ll get married.