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Of all things, Wakatoshi did not expect to be kidnapped.
Maybe in hindsight, it would’ve been beneficial for him to not take Tendou’s words lightly—even if he said it jokingly well over a year ago. Because Tendou Satori is apparently a man of his words, a man of action, which is how and why Wakatoshi is currently strapped into a business class seat on the first flight out from Tokyo to Okinawa, thirty two thousand feet up in the air, two and a half hours down with thirty minutes to go.
I’m your best man. Yes, Wakatoshi remembers hearing this.
And only I can be your best man because I’m your best friend. Wakatoshi also recalls agreeing to this since they are best friends. They even have a publicly broadcasted documentary to prove this declaration. That Ushijima Wakatoshi and Tendou Satori are best friends.
And you must, absolutely must, let me throw a bachelor’s party for you. Ah. Yes.
And you entrust me entirely for the planning. No questions asked. It’s all coming back to him now as he stares out the window.
The sun has barely risen over the horizon, casting a light orange hue that melds into the soft blue as the plane soars through the cloudless morning sky. And maybe, Wakatoshi thinks, he should’ve asked questions. Because Tendou is sitting in the seat beside him, fiddling with the volume for the movie he’s currently watching on his in-flight entertainment screen with a relatively proud look on his face that Wakatoshi still can’t decipher whether it’s good or bad, and to top it all off, he did not expect Kiyoomi to be on board of this plan too.
(“You knew about this?” he asks, slightly alarmed as the unyielding arms of Ohira and Kageyama encircle his torso and forcefully remove him from his and Kiyoomi’s apartment in the early hours of the morning.
Hoshiumi’s devilish cackle rings in his ears as he watches Kiyoomi hand him over a packed suitcase and Wakatoshi has never felt so ambushed in his entire life.
“Well, you made a promise,” Kiyoomi replies. “My role was only helping him figure out your schedule.”
“Don’tcha worry about a thing, Kiyoomi-kun,” Tendou peeks through the entryway with a crooked thumbs up pointed at them both. “I promise to bring Wakatoshi-kun back in one piece for you.”
Kiyoomi rolls his eyes before turning to him. “Be safe,” placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips as a parting gift. “And have fun but not too much fun.”)
Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi agreed to not see each other before wedding.
Traditionally, this tradition only applies for the eve of the wedding and that in the olden day of its origins, it was bad luck if the betrothed couple ever did. The notion is apparently also supposed to build anticipation and yearning, or so Komori and Tendou say. While Wakatoshi wasn’t necessarily against the premise when he first heard it, there was just something about it that he didn’t want to wholeheartedly agree to.
Wakatoshi figures that maybe he’s just being clingy, high on the euphoria of ‘about to get married’. He did spend the past year planning his wedding with Kiyoomi—flying back and forth between Japan and Poland whenever he could to do tuxedo fittings, venue surveys and wedding cake testings. And admittedly, while a few arguments did break out between orchids or lilies for the centrepieces, colour palette choices for their place settings, or hiring a string quartet or a jazz band for their reception, Wakatoshi found all of it enjoyable, sentimental, in love.
Plus, he’s an adult. Distance does make the heart grow fonder as directly learnt from experience. And who is he to get in the way of Komori’s unwavering eagerness to hold Kiyoomi’s own “Bachelor Party Bonanza” despite Kiyoomi’s clear and vocal disdain for the festivity. Bachelor parties were also a part of wedding traditions and Wakatoshi is nothing if not to honour tradition.
Never did he expect that he would be shipped out to Okinawa so unceremoniously like this too, his mind recalling that half of the people currently sitting around him would apparently still busy with work or still be outside of Japan until the middle of the week. Tendou even mentioning that his bachelor party would be something quiet and lowkey which Wakatoshi now thinks is the complete and exact opposite of that.
“I know what you’re thinking so hard about, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou teases him when he takes one glance at his face between his movie. “It wouldn’t have been a surprise if you knew and where’s the fun in that?”
“I suppose so,” he replies and he puts it in the back of his mind as their plane now makes its descend into Naha Domestic Airport and is ready for landing.
Wakatoshi isn’t big on surprises to begin with, but he does think about how his closest friends put in the time and effort to discreetly travel to Tokyo (Tendou and Kageyama even flying back to Japan a week early) and put together an elaborate plan to kidnap—no—surprise him with this trip.
He isn’t a stranger to bachelor parties, having been subject to quite a few already within the past couple of years. Ohira’s bachelor party was to a hiking trail and a three day stay at seaside ryokan in Nachikatsuura where Wakatoshi enjoyed authentic Japanese cooking, hot springs and playing table tennis until someone broke a paddle. Semi’s then was to an all-night long concert at an underground club in Tokyo for his favourite band, which made Wakatoshi also learn the limits of his alcohol tolerance as a twenty eight year old.
This time, Wakatoshi realizes, he is not a participant of this bachelor party. Wakatoshi is the bachelor. The groom-to-be. He’s a week away from being married, wedded, legally bound to Sakusa Kiyoomi under sacred matrimonial vows of in sick and in health, for better and for worse, ‘til death do us part, I do.
“Before I officially declare the start of Wakatoshi-kun’s bachelor party,” Tendou begins, now landed and all of their suitcases retrieved from the baggage claim belt and they head out to the shuttle bus that’s reserved for the duration of their stay. “Hoshiumi-kun, Kageyama-kun, would you do the honours?”
“This is something the Adlers prepared for you.”
Wakatoshi watches Kageyama and Hoshiumi reach for a paper bag tucked inside Kageyama’s backpack. It felt inconspicuous at first, but Wakatoshi knows better than to underestimate the excited glint in Kageyama’s eyes as he pulls out a bright pink satin sash while Hoshiumi holds up a glittery plastic tiara that looks like it’s been stolen from some six year old’s Barbie dream house playset.
“He looks ridiculous,” Shirabu says, glaring at Tendou who’s too busy cackling and taking pictures of him.
Wakatoshi looks down at the pink satin that’s now slung across his chest and reads the words “Mr. Bachelor” embroidered in bold white lettering. The tiara is also placed on top of his head and Hoshiumi steps back, looking prouder than ever.
“Tobio, take a picture. I promised Romero I’d send him lots of pictures of Wakatoshi or else I won’t hear the end of it when I see him next.”
“Okay,” Kageyama nods, following instructions suit and begins moving around to take multiple angle shots of him.
Wakatoshi takes a scan of everyone’s faces, most of them amused, and thinks yes, this should be fun. Yes, a few days away from Kiyoomi should be completely fine too.
--
nicollasromero tagged you in a post.
My baby is getting married ❤️ can’t wait for the big day! #proud #happy #ushijimawakatoshi
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hirugami_fukuro our baby ❤️
tatsutosokolov congratulations our baby ❤️
toshiro_heiwajima baby waka ❤️
hoshiumikourai @nicollasromero @hirugami_fukuro @tatsutosokolov @toshiro_heiwajima your baby is 30 years old
--
Wakatoshi thinks that Shirabu is either feeling ridiculous on his behalf or the Okinawan summer is finally getting to him and is giving him a heat stroke. Because the entirety of his face is red and it’s only progressively worsened as they now stand in the middle of the lavish lobby of Sheraton Sunmarina Resort.
“Ushijima-san,” Shirabu mumbles to him. “You know you don’t have to wear the sash and tiara if you don’t want to.”
Shirabu says it like Wakatoshi is being held hostage even though he very much isn’t. There’s a citrusy welcome drink in his hand, presented delightfully and comically in a hollowed out coconut with one of those paper umbrellas and a slice of pineapple as garnish.
“Oh be quiet Kenjirou,” Tendou interjects from where he’s speaking to the receptionist. “I think he looks cute.”
“I don’t mind either,” he replies. “It fits the occasion.”
“Romero-san already posted your picture on his Instagram account,” Kageyama chimes in. “A lot of people are saying that you look cute too.”
“Really?” he asks and is then met with Kageyama’s phone screen with said Instagram post in question opened.
There’s already four hundred thousand likes on it in just under an hour. There’s comments from his old Adlers teammates, one from Hoshiumi seemingly pointing out his age for some reason, likes from national team teammates and even the Onigiri Miya official account (Miya Osamu must be on break). And also, Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi hasn’t even replied to his message saying that he’s landed in Okinawa and Wakatoshi doesn’t want to admit that there’s something to the slightly longer exhale as he squints at their chatroom, the damning “Read” indication nowhere to be seen but it’s evident that’s he’s online to see Romero’s post about him.
“Wakatoshi-kun, if you look at your phone one more time I’ll confiscate it and won’t return it to you until we’re back in Tokyo.”
He lets out a barely audible grumble accompanied with a frown but nonetheless complies.
“I’m giving you all one hour to rest and freshen up before we meet back here again,” Tendou now says as he’s distributing the key cards for their hotel rooms. “Bring a spare change of clothes and your swimming trunks. We have a full day of activities ahead.”
A mix of groans and exhales erupt from their group.
“Are we doing a bachelor party or a group tour?” Semi asks, adjusting the strap of his travel bag.
Tendou tuts and waggles his finger at Semi. “Now Eita, this is Wakatoshi-kun’s all immersive bachelor party experience. We need to celebrate his upcoming nuptials to the fullest. Right, Wakatoshi-kun?”
He hums and nods, even though admittedly, his mind is currently elsewhere—one thousand and five hundred kilometres away.
--
ushiwaka @nicollasromero Thank you, Romero-san. Kiyoomi and I look forward to having you at our wedding.
ushiwaka @hoshiumikourai I’m actually 32.
--
The weight of the words “Kiyoomi and I” and “our wedding” hits Wakatoshi like a tidal wave for the first time three months ago.
At that time, Wakatoshi felt it upon reading the words “you are cordially invited to the wedding of Ushijima Wakatoshi and Sakusa Kiyoomi”, printed in four hundred copies of beige card stock, lined with fancy floral embossing. While Wakatoshi is aware that he’s already a few months into the whole wedding planning ordeal, everything that he and Kiyoomi have been meticulously working hard towards will soon come into fruition via a printed out invitation ready to be sent out to their family and friends.
Kiyoomi, already three pages worth of names and addresses deep on a word document, complains “look at all of these people that my mother insists we invite” followed by “I don’t even know who Aunt Sachiko is” and then lastly, “let’s just elope. Please. You and me. We can grab our passports and just go. It’s not too late.”
He hums, contemplating, but ultimately retorts. “Some of the deposits on the vendors is non-refundable.”
Kiyoomi clicks his tongue. Because he wasn’t about to argue against that. Not when his credit card details is on file.
Our wedding.
It’s two words that Wakatoshi may, if anything, be the most privileged to ever get to say when it comes to Sakusa Kiyoomi.
This time, he feels it again upon re-reading his Instagram comment to Romero and he’s probably a minute away from Tendou swooping in and confiscating his phone. Or throwing it in the ocean, whichever works best to get him to focus on his own bachelor party.
Wakatoshi knows yearning. Yearning could be his best friend at this point. All the months that he spends in Warsaw away from Kiyoomi, he yearns. All the hours he spends away from Kiyoomi even when they’re in the off season together in Tokyo but he still has other work to do, he yearns. Kiyoomi permanently occupies a portion of his mind and fits perfectly in all of the designated Kiyoomi-shaped spaces in his life.
Even on a fast boat as he trudges through the crystal blue waters of Kerama Islands, Wakatoshi yearns while feeling the salty air and sun against his skin.
“Don’t go daydreaming so close to the ledge like that, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou teases when their eyes meet, their boat now docking into Zamami Port. “If you fall in and go missing I won’t know what to tell that fiancé of yours back at home.”
“He’ll probably kill you,” Semi says with no intent of being comforting whatsoever. “With no hesitation. Body for a body.”
Tendou is operating with a single mission to absolutely exhaust them. There’s a snorkelling gear shoved into his hands and they make the drive all the way down to Furuzamami.
It’s picturesque, greeted by white sand beds and endless turquoise that even from the shoreline Wakatoshi can see the coral reefs and the swimming fish. The first dip of his feet into the water is shockingly cold despite the blaring heat which garners a shriek from Yamagata but Hoshiumi still barrages through, uncaring, smiling from ear to ear as he and Wakatoshi huddle together to fit into the go-pro he’s holding to make memories. Kageyama’s swimming trunk gets stuck in between the coral which makes Hoshiumi have to swim up to the surface to breathe properly because he laughed too hard.
Furuzamami takes them four hours to explore and enjoy before they move to their next destination. Wakatoshi is on a paddle boat with Tendou and Shirabu when Ohira and Semi swim from underneath and decide to flip the boat over with all their might—tasting salt in their mouths as their bodies crash into the water.
“You’re trying to kill me,” Shirabu accuses once.
“I second that notion,” Semi adds. “Some of us are desk workers. Not Olympic athletes.”
Sunkissed skin meets the warm glow of the setting sun in Ama beach. Wakatoshi lost count how many times his hair has gotten wet and gone dry by now. He thinks if Kiyoomi were here to run his hands through his hair, he’d definitely say that it smells like the sea, that it’s dirty and dehydrated and feels like a bird’s nest, that he should wash his hair twice with shampoo and once with conditioner so that it smells nice again and Kiyoomi always liked it when Wakatoshi smelled fresh out of a shower.
“I’m gonna be so sick of the beach once we’re done with this trip,” Yamagata says.
Tendou calls it beach hopping while Shirabu calls it the quickest way to get sun burnt and a heatstroke.
“I don’t go to the beach often,” he now replies.
“Me neither,” Kageyama adds.
“Seems like this place is quite popular with couples,” Ohira chimes in. “You should take Sakusa-kun here sometime, Wakatoshi.”
Wakatoshi hums. “Kiyoomi doesn’t really enjoy the beach.”
“Oh really?” Tendou asks back. “So where’s your honeymoon destination going to be? If you two come to Paris, I’ll show you around and—”
“Nowhere,” he answers. “We’ve decided.”
“Why so?” Hoshiumi this time asks.
Wakatoshi takes another contemplative hum and decides that because I’d rather spend time at home with Kiyoomi isn’t a good enough answer.
--
22:01 PM You
I miss you.
--
At eight in the morning, Wakatoshi finds three missed calls on his phone upon finishing his shower which he then proceeds to promptly return one by one.
The first one, to the tailor. Confirming when he can come in to do the final fitting for his tuxedo and to make sure he hasn’t gained any more muscle since the last one.
The second, Tsukishima Kei. Because sometimes a high school opponent ends up being the boyfriend of a teammate who Wakatoshi is acquainted with enough to have a conversation with without said boyfriend’s presence needed. Tsukishima Kei called under the pretence of confirming his address for a wedding gift delivery since Kageyama doesn’t know the address to Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi’s new apartment in Tokyo. Wakatoshi promises to text it to him before hanging up.
The third, Kiyoomi’s mother. Who has apparently been quote unquote, ghosted, by Kiyoomi ever since an argument broke out over the increasing number of invitees. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he too has been quote unquote, ghosted, by Kiyoomi. And that he himself hasn’t seen Kiyoomi since he was kidnapped from the sanctity of his apartment and hailed all the way down south to Okinawa. But still as a good son-in-law, he listens, defends Kiyoomi, and then with a huff Kiyoomi’s mother says “Wakatoshi-kun, only you’re able to deal with how stubborn Kiyoomi is sometimes” before hanging up, leaving him at a loss for words.
Kiyoomi can be stubborn, yes. He’s headstrong and determined which are all qualities that Wakatoshi adores. And maybe this absence of a reply to him is just part of Kiyoomi also being committed to the tradition—once again met with the unread message and no incoming calls. He’d think Kiyoomi would be a little concerned after watching him be forcefully removed out of bed at the crack of dawn.
If only Wakatoshi knew (dramatic) that that night would’ve been the last time (dramatic) he got to kiss Kiyoomi as a single, unmarried man (even more dramatic). He would’ve made it worthwhile; he would’ve made it spectacular. He would’ve tried to make Kiyoomi’s eyes roll to the back of his head while he kisses and touches him all over instead of a measly good night kiss—peck—even.
There’s a knock on his door and then his name is being called.
“Hey, wanna get breakfast?” it’s Hoshiumi all by himself because Kageyama is apparently still asleep since he’s still adjusting to the time zone difference.
Another call comes in and this time, it’s the bakery. He lets out an exhale.
“Don’t you have a wedding organizer to take care of all of that?” Hoshiumi asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Or Sakusa?”
Sakusa.
“Give me two minutes,” he says. “Then we can go.”
Hoshiumi flops onto the bed while he waits and Wakatoshi is met with the ordeal of whether he would like to add white roses or peonies to the wedding cake.
--
oohirareon tagged you in a post.
Celebrating Wakatoshi’s bachelor party! Time sure flies fast @ushiwaka @tendousatori @semisemisemi @ymgt_hayato
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goshikitsutomu WHAT IS USHIJIMA-SAN WEARING
kawanishitaichi why does semi-san look like a boiled crab
semisemisemi @kawanishitaichi you’re getting braver each day
--
Wakatoshi comes to a realization on a street corner in Kokusai Dori that he’s never properly explored Naha before.
He’s been here in the past for national team training camps but he’s never taken the time to roam around, enjoy the local food and browse all of the shops lined up and down the street in bursts of bright red and neon yellow. There’s surprisingly a lot, evident by the handful of shopping bags that Hoshiumi currently has dangling off his arms.
“This is all for Sachirou,” Hoshiumi defends himself, not as if he would be judgmental to begin with if it wasn’t. Hoshiumi has a knack for denying all of the things he does for Hirugami out of love in front of them. “That bastard gave me a shopping list.”
“The miso chinsuko does look interesting,” Ohira says. “Maybe I should get some as well to bring home. I know Shizuka and my in-laws would enjoy it.”
“Well aren’t you just the family man,” Yamagata teases. “Are you getting anything for Sakusa-kun, Wakatoshi?”
He hums, pursing his lips into a contemplative line as he eyes at the rows and shelfs full of boxed souvenirs. “Kiyoomi isn’t really a fan of sweets.”
“It doesn’t have to be sweets,” Semi adds. “It can be savoury or maybe even decorative. Didn’t you say Sakusa-kun has been trying to find something for your home office?”
He nods, remembering Kiyoomi’s journey of shopping for their home. The multiple trips they’ve taken down to Ginza just so Kiyoomi could find the perfect bed linen with the perfect thread count so he doesn’t feel like he’s sleeping on sandpaper, the perfect corner table that screams modern and rustic at the same time to hold up the beautiful ceramic vase that Wakatoshi’s mother gifted them, and the perfect throw pillows, so their couch doesn’t feel bare and unwelcoming. It wasn’t like they were aiming for a feature in Architectural Digest, but Kiyoomi wanted their apartment to feel like home. Like it was lived in.
Wakatoshi once inquired whether he too should be bringing aesthetical contributions to their home and Kiyoomi responds with, rather crudely, “you walking around shirtless after a shower is already contribution enough”.
So Wakatoshi tags along—trailing behind the people in the group who do seem to know what they’re specifically looking for in this busy shopping district. The question of “what does Kiyoomi want?” repeating in his mind after each shop they pass.
“You’re thinking too much about something again, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou singsongs. “Care to tell your bestman what woes you? Is it wedding-related?”
“No, I was just thinking of what to get Kiyoomi,” he replies.
Their last stop on this particular alleyway is a sports store that Ohira and Yamagata wanted to check out in search for new training wear. Hoshiumi is the first one to point out that the store has their national team jerseys on display, complete with their formal JVA portrait and accompanying autograph.
“Well, what do you think Kiyoomi-kun would like?” Tendou hums.
His eyes fall onto his own jersey hung up on the wall, enclosed in a thin layer of glass, bright crimson red reflecting off the light with the number one and captain’s stripe printed in white lettering.
On the back of his jersey reads the name ‘USHIJIMA’ in all caps and Wakatoshi remembers three words of I want that. He confirms, just to make sure he was hearing things right. You want my jersey? And Kiyoomi shakes his head and says No. I don’t want your jersey which confuses him and makes his brows knit together.
And then it hits Wakatoshi what Kiyoomi actually really meant by those three words. I want that meant I want your name on my jersey. It meant I want the whole world to know that we’re married and that I’m yours and that you’re mine forever.
“Kiyoomi would like that,” he gestures, Tendou following to where his eyes are now directed towards.
“Ah,” Tendou then says. “And why is that?”
“He says,” Wakatoshi hums. “Because there’s already too many Sakusas in this world.”
Tendou laughs. “What a peculiar man that fiancé of yours is.”
--
“My parents are Sakusas, my older brother is a Sakusa, his wife is also a Sakusa, and then his three kids are also Sakusa. Isn’t that just too much? And this is just in my immediate family.”
“I’ve always liked your family name,” he replies.
“So would you prefer to be Sakusa Wakatoshi then?” Kiyoomi counters. “Since you like it so much.”
“I have no preference,” he replies again. “As long as we’re together.”
Kiyoomi pouts. “I’ve decided to take your name. And before you say anything, no, it’s not because Motoya says I write “Mr. Ushijima Kiyoomi” over and over again in my diary like a middle school girl in love.”
He smiles. “Of course.”
--
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--
There’s only so often that Wakatoshi resorts to very desperate measures in his life.
The last time he recalls reaching this level of desperation was when he was twenty, returning to his shoebox of an apartment in the dead of the night only to realize that the water heater broke while he was out and he, desperate enough to not take a cold shower in the middle of winter, made twenty trips from the stove to the bathroom with pots of boiled hot water just to end up taking one measly, tepid bath since he forgot to shut the bathroom window close.
This time, Wakatoshi’s desperation takes in the form of Miya Atsumu and sneaking away while the rest of his bachelor party attendees were getting drunker by the second.
After three days full of excursions all over Okinawa, Tendou decides to end the entire ordeal on the third night with the most traditional of bachelor party traditions which is a night of dancing and drinking at the hotel bar. The pink sash and tiara makes a reappearance, and Wakatoshi is in the middle of taking his third shot of tequila when he decides that he’s feeling queasy and needs some fresh air.
There’s a boardwalk that connects from the shoreline and goes into the ocean at Sunmarina Beach. And Wakatoshi is making hurried and careful steps along the wooden planks as he reaches for his phone in the pocket of his shorts and searches for Miya Atsumu’s contact details and hits the call button.
Wakatoshi feels his heart thumping loudly in his chest as he waits for the call to be connected.
“Hey! Ushijima-san, what’s up?” it’s loud where Atsumu is, sounds of music and cheering making him just barely audible.
“Atsumu,” he says. “Is Kiyoomi there with you?”
At the mention of Kiyoomi’s name, Atsumu suddenly goes quiet.
“Atsumu?” he says again. “Are you still there?”
“Shit,” he hears Atsumu groan. “Ushijima-san, I’m really not supposed to do this for ya or else Motoya-kun is going to kill me.”
Wakatoshi knits his brows in confusion, now hearing rustling and garbled chatter from Atsumu’s end which continues on for the next few minutes.
The fuck are you doing—
He can make out Kiyoomi’s voice, surprised and cursing all in one.
Just c’mere for a second will ya—
Now comes Atsumu’s, equally as frustrated.
Stop pulling at my arm, Miya. What do you want—
“Your fiancé is on the phone,” he hears Atsumu say and it promptly shuts Kiyoomi up. “Be quick before your cousin notices that you’re missing.”
“Wakatoshi?” And with just one call of his name, it’s enough to make a warmth and a sense of comfort to bloom in his chest. It’s always been so easy. It’s always been Kiyoomi. “Is everything alright? Are you okay over there in Okinawa?”
“You haven’t been returning any of my calls or messages,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs. “Motoya confiscated my phone the moment he picked me up from our apartment so I haven’t seen anything.”
“Ah,” he replies. “I see.”
“I didn’t know that you’ve been calling,” Kiyoomi then moves to teasing him. “Did you miss me that much that you’d resort to calling Miya to get to me?”
He chuckles. “I miss you every moment that I’m away from you, Kiyoomi.”
“Cheesy,” Kiyoomi replies with a faint laugh at the end. Wakatoshi can already picture the small smile on Kiyoomi’s face, the faint blush on his cheeks whenever he does accuse him of being ‘cheesy’ in his declarations of love.
“Kiyoomi.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t wait to get married to you.”
“Me too,” Kiyoomi replies. “Me too.”
“It’s not too late if you still want to elope by the way,” he now jokes and it earns a scandalous gasp from Kiyoomi.
“And here you said months ago that our deposits were non-refundable.”
They both share a laugh before Kiyoomi shrieks as the sound of a metal door slams open. Wakatoshi can hear Atsumu cursing in the background too followed by an angry shout of “there you are! I knew you’d sneak off if I took my eyes off of you!” from who he can only assume is Komori.
The call ends up being disconnected but Wakatoshi’s heart is content, smiling as he looks down at the screen and places his phone back into his pocket. The night wind is harsh, blowing mercilessly through his hair and makes the waves crash into the wooden posts of the boardwalk.
“Was that Kiyoomi-kun?”
Ah. So he too has been caught red handed. No use in denying it now.
“Yes,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear his voice. I’m sorry.”
Tendou hums. “You nervous for your big day?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all.”
--
atsumu made a post.
Handsome groomsmen on duty. Congrats @sakusakiyoomi can’t wait for the big day
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sunarintarou wtf I look terrible in this
bokuto we look so good 🔥
--
It dawns on him that something that started from a Pinterest idea board between him and Kiyoomi paired with one year worth of meetings with a wedding organizer has now come into fruition right before him.
In just a short one and a half year, Wakatoshi has gone through all of the sequences—from the proposal, to the engagement, to moving into their now permanent home, to the wedding planning, bachelor parties and now today, standing before the glass aisle lined with vases of white lilies on ivory posts that leads to an altar with the beautiful view of Tokyo Bay, the wedding day. His and Kiyoomi’s. Our wedding.
“You look handsome, Wakatoshi,” his mother says, giving his bowtie and calla lily boutonniere one last adjustment before she presses a kiss onto his cheek. He has to squat down slightly even if she is in heels.
“Thank you,” he replies, a smile on his face. He gives her a hug before his mother excuses herself to check in with his grandmother who’s still getting dressed in their suite.
It’s an hour until the ceremony starts and Wakatoshi wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s antsy nor is he impatient but more so that he’s excited, thrilled even. He still hasn’t seen Kiyoomi and he knows that Tendou and Komori’s gesture to separate them a few days before the wedding worked.
Wakatoshi takes note of the people already in attendance. His family, then Kiyoomi’s family, then there were his groomsmen who were sitting on one side of the hall and Kiyoomi’s on the other. Then there were the best men, Tendou and Komori, who were already by the altar as they seemingly converse and exchange banter with one another. They make eye contact with Wakatoshi once and Wakatoshi only nods in return.
Wakatoshi knows that their tradition worked for two reasons. One, because it’s correct that it truly served to build and create anticipation and yearning between the couple. And two, Wakatoshi knows more than anything, that he’s desperately in love enough for what he’s about to do.
In under three minutes, Wakatoshi slips out of the wedding hall and heads towards the suites area as stealthily as possible. He knows for a fact that Kiyoomi’s suite is just beside his and he knows for a fact that Kiyoomi hasn’t left yet either, evident by the younger’s response when Wakatoshi knocks on the door, pretending to be one of the wedding organizer’s staff.
“Kotomi-san, could you please tell Wakatoshi that there seems to be some kind of mistake with the rundown. I don’t recall—”
In front of floor length mirror with his back facing to him, Wakatoshi watches Kiyoomi who’s now dressed in a white tuxedo and a matching boutonniere as his, make up done lightly but just enough that it accentuates his features beautifully. He thinks, wow. For one. I’m going to marry him. For two. He feels guilty in the best way possible. He gets to have this for the rest of his life.
“Wakatoshi?!” Kiyoomi’s voice is slightly alarmed when he notices him standing there in front of the door. “What are you doing here? We’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding!”
“I know,” he replies, approaching Kiyoomi. “I’m sorry. You just—” It’s not often that he’s at a loss at words but right now, all Wakatoshi wants to do is grab Kiyoomi and kiss him deeply, senselessly, mercilessly.
“Wakatoshi—”
Kiyoomi’s lips is soft against his, faint taste of lip balm lingering after each kiss which only drives him even more. There’s little whispers of ‘oh god’ as a pliant tongue chases after his. It’s been a week too long and each desperate little breath makes Wakatoshi kiss Kiyoomi harder, a hand now clawed into the fabric of his tuxedo as they’re backed up against the mirror and Wakatoshi glances at the breathless look on Kiyoomi’s face.
“My makeup is ruined,” Kiyoomi whispers, forehead pressed against his, their lips just a ghost away from each other’s.
“I can stop,” he replies, emphasizing each word with a kiss on Kiyoomi’s lips. “If you want me to.”
“Don’t you dare stop,” Kiyoomi replies, kissing him back. "If you stop, I'll call off the entire wedding."
Wakatoshi smiles. "Duly noted."
--
“How are you, Tendou-san?” Komori smiles. “How is Paris treating you?”
“My, I’ve been well, Motoya-kun,” Tendou replies. “Paris is lovely at this time of year. How about you? How are you doing with all of your matches?”
“I’ve been well too.”
Tendou hums, turning to Komori who’s standing beside him. “Today’s a happy day, isn’t it?”
Komori chuckles. “It is. I’ve honestly always wondered when this day would come.”
“Can’t say I’m not the same,” Tendou shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve watched them for how long now? Stupidly in love with one another?”
“Oh don’t get me started, Tendou-san,” Komori sighs. “I’ve had to hear about “Wakatoshi-kun” since I was in middle school.”
“As his best friend and best man, I’m sorry that he’s a little slow,” Tendou replies.
“As long as we’re here,” Komori says. “That’s all that matters.”
“You’re right,” Tendou smiles. “That’s all that matters.”