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Yamaguchi stands under a cherry blossom tree, pink and bright against the sun that drips down his golden skin like ichor, freckles dusting over his arm so gently it seems as though he is glimmering with nothing but the touch of an angel. He stares at his palm, eyes glazed over the rough lines running along his skin, his veins even more prominent under the light. His fingers are tainted with pink – soft petals resting in between the crevices of his fingers, bright and lovely. He coughs again, his other hand clamping over his mouth to catch the flowers falling from his parted lips, smelling the familiar scent of cherry blossoms under his nose, stronger than before and more prominent than ever. Whether the smell came from the trees or from the flowers on his hands, he could never know.
He thinks, at that exact moment, just as the sun light hits the highest points of his cheek, of how mesmerizing it seems to be able to look at the flowers falling over his hands. There is a tinge of pain accompanying their arrival, the dread of acceptance looming over his head like the heavy clouds before rain falls down, but the tinge of something sweet dripping from his tongue comforts him.
Cherry blossoms truly look beautiful up close.
“Oh, my god, it’s so hot!” Hinata plops himself against the grass, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Yamaguchi stops beside him, panting under the summer heat. Sticky sweat trickles down the side of his head, dampening his thin, white t-shirt as the rest of their team reaches the foot of the hill.
“Are we really about to do this every year?” he pants, glancing back at the struggling first years who had recently joined the team.
Hinata rolls over on his stomach, wincing at the prickly feeling of grass against his cheek. “Maybe.” he mumbles, his eyes shut tight. Yachi immediately rushes towards them and hands them dry towels to use. Yamaguchi smiles and quietly thanks her before proceeding to wipe off the sweat on his forehead.
“Oi! Are you two fighting again?!” Nishinoya’s loud and shrill voice boomed. Yamaguchi turns to look at his senior, forehead creasing as he follows his gaze up the hill. Grunting, Hinata sits up from where he is and casts a glance over the two tall figures casually walking down the hill, their faces flushed from the heat and something else.
Pink. Yamaguchi notices Tsukishima’s pink cheeks first – of how the shade reminded him of the familiar flowers he had grown to hide over the last two months after finding out.
Ennoshita slowly approaches them. “What’s wrong?” the captain asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.
Tsukishima shakes his head at his senior, careful and slow and not so like him at all. “It’s nothing,” he says, adjusting the band around his head. Kageyama shifts on his feet from beside him, slightly scowling with his red cheeks. “We just talked about something.”
Tanaka raises an eyebrow at them. “Huh?” he says, frowning. “That’s new!”
Hinata snorts. “Oi, Kageyama! Why are you beet red?”
Kageyama glares at his friend. “What?” he snarls, marching up to him in long strides while Hinata scurries quickly to his feet with a yelp.
Tsukishima’s gaze follows Kageyama’s back, the glint in his golden eyes discreet and almost unnoticeable to their eyes, but Yamaguchi knows there is something different with the way his best friend looks at their setter. Something not quite misplaced, but definitely new. There is a tug at the bottom of his chest, a pull that twists around his guts. The need to cough comes abruptly, and he stifles a yelp as he turn away from his friends without raising too much suspicion. Quietly, he walks away from their small group, one hand clasped over his mouth as he starts to cough.
He keeps the cherry blossom petals inside his short’s pockets for the rest of the day.
When night time arrived, it became easier for him to get rid of the flowers hiding from within his clothes. The gyms are still littered with a few small groups of players who are doing extra practice, and he would have joined the first and third years in practising their serves and receives if only his body didn’t feel like a log.
“Aren’t you going to join us, Yamaguchi senpai?” one of the first years asks him.
Yamaguchi shakes his head at him with a small smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I wanted to rest early for today.”
He doesn’t fall asleep immediately even after the lights have gone out. Instead, he continues to stare with wide eyes in the dark, sighing every now and then all to himself.
“Yamaguchi.”
Yamaguchi feels himself wince at the familiar voice. Tsukishima is lying beside him in his own futon, practically blind to the dark without his glasses on.
“What?” Yamaguchi whispers.
“Go to sleep,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath. “I can hear you sighing every minute, and I can’t sleep.”
“Oh,” Yamaguchi sighs once again, eyes still searching in the dark. “Sorry, Tsukki.”
Tsukishima does not answer, and instead proceeds to listen to his best friend’s quiet coughs, clueless to the pink petals and Yamaguchi’s secrets hiding in the dark.
“I’m dating someone.”
Yamaguchi’s steps falter ever so lightly, his knees growing cold against the heat of the sun. A tiny bird flew past their heads, squawking loudly on its way as it slides against the wind from above.
He turns to look at Tsukishima, his eyes widening in shock. “Really?” he asks.
Tsukishima nods once, a bit hesitant with his action. Yamaguchi glances down at his best friend’s hands and watches as his long and slender fingers start to fiddle with each other in front of him. A nervous habit.
“Who?”
Tsukishima swallows thickly. “Kageyama.”
Ah.
“You...” Tsukishima trails off. “You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be?”
Tsukishima shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi calls. “I’m not mad. I’m happy for you.”
Tsukishima averts his gaze, his cheeks flaming red. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
Yamaguchi does not answer to that, his voice unable to come out now that it has finally dawned on him. Sorry, Tsukki.
When he reaches home, his flowers are now tainted with red.
Hinata peeks through his eyelashes, staring at the petal resting above Yamaguchi’s lower lip in confusion. “Yamaguchi-kun,” he calls for his friend’s attention. Yamaguchi’s eyes flicker over to him. “What’s... What’s that on your lip?”
Yamaguchi’s hand fly over to his mouth, feeling the familiar texture of a cherry blossom’s petal against the tips of his fingers, wet with a drop of blood. Hinata’s eyes widened at the sight, his mouth falling agape as Yamaguchi covers the entirety of his mouth with his hand.
“Y-yamaguchi-kun-“
Yamaguchi grabs Hinata’s wrist and quickly pulls him inside the gym’s storage room. He closes the door behind them with a grunt. “Hinata...”
“You...” Hinata trails off, his eyes growing wide as he points at the falling petals from his friend’s mouth. “You’re sick?”
Yamaguchi stares at him. “Hinata-“
“You’re sick,” Hinata states in disbelief, staring at Yamaguchi for a few seconds before a gasp makes its way past his lips. “Is it Tsukishima?”
Yamaguchi shakes his head. “You can’t tell anyone about this-“ Hinata clasps a hand over his mouth. “No one should know, Hinata. Do you understand? No one. Especially Tsukki.”
“But why?” Hinata whispers, voice shaking.
Yamaguchi heaves out a heavy sigh. “He’s already happy with his relationship...”
“Oh.”
How many times has he gazed upon his best friend, wishing for something – even for just a tiny bit – to change? How many times has it been since he has woken up to fresh tears running down the sides of his face, his heart still racing from the dream he had of Tsukishima and his lips that fluttered over his freckled skin in nothing but such gentleness it could rival the summer breeze? How many times has he wished for the petals to disappear? Would it be selfish of him if he said he’d rather suffer than lose memories of his feelings for his best friend?
Best friend. It’s always been just that and never more, right? Best friends since the day he approached him inside that volleyball gym, his neck craning up to gaze at the familiar golden blue eyes that had only laid on him once. Best friends since the day they had ran into Akiteru during that one volleyball match, when he chose to stay by his side despite the humiliation and hurt tainting his pride. Best friends since the moment he realized he is nothing but a vessel of pink petals under the blooming trees of cherry blossoms. It’s always been best friends and never more than that.
Would he be selfish if he were to let himself drown in his own sorrow? To let himself suffer if it means he would still get to keep his feelings in hopes of them being reciprocated in the future? Would it be selfish for him if he were to wait in the middle of an empty road, somewhere where only lost souls could find?
He sighs, deep and heavy, and lets himself melt against the soft mattress of his hospital bed. His sight is now nothing but an abundance of black and white, his fingertips stained with pink petals and the familiar scent of cherry blossoms during the spring.
“Yamaguchi...”
Tsukishima stands over his best friend’s bed, the entirety of his body rigid and unmoving. His eyes are hard against the traces of petals surrounding the room.
“Sorry, Tsukki...” Yamaguchi whispers through his struggle to breathe.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Slowly, Yamaguchi shakes his head, his hair sprawled across his forehead the paleness of his skin making his freckles more prominent under the lights inside the room. “I was scared...”
“I-“ Tsukishima swallows thickly. It pains him to see his best friend in such a state. “We could have been-“
“Don’t... don't say that,” Yamaguchi sighs, eyes fluttering close. “Don’t give me false hopes now, Tsukki.”
Tsukishima removes his eyeglasses and wipes away the tears forming in his eyes with his arm. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice shaking. “I’m so sorry, Yamaguchi.”
Yamaguchi sighs and finally lets his eyes seal shut.