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Suga’s morning is unusual, to say the least.
Usually he finds himself blissfully awoken by a happy and bright early morning sun splashing over his face. It colors his room in a wash of yellows and blues and throws warmth to cast away the chill of the night. Birds sing quietly outside his window as he throws off his covers and readies himself for a new day.
Today, though, there was no sun to coax him awake. No birds to set the tone for his morning.
Today, there are only dark grey clouds covering his window with spattering rain. They let the night’s cold linger long into the morning of the next day and cast away the birds that might bring a smile to his face.
Suga tears himself out of his warm covers into the cold morning. He blinks bleary eyes at his phone. 12:00pm.
He drags himself into the bathroom, fixes the matted parts of his usually fresh hair, and yanks open the door to his bedroom.
The living room of his apartment is just as dark as the weather outside but his roommate, Akaashi, takes no issue with it. He takes a long sip from his coffee and remarks, “You’re up quite bright and early, Suga-san. That’s not like you. You’re a self-diagnosed ‘morning person’, aren’t you?”
“I am a morning person. Just not when mornings look like that.” he gestures vaguely to the window and flicks on the kettle.
“Well, maybe this letter might pick you up a little.” Akaashi passes Suga a blue-tinted envelope before returning to typing leisurely on his laptop. “Kenma-san mentioned New Years was at Hinata and Kageyama’s this year, by the way. He asked— well, pleaded— for us help them plan. I have to say, I’d be curious to see what they think a party should—”
Suga’s coughing fit cuts Akaashi off as boiling hot tea splashes out his nose. He skims the address over and over again, heart picking up its pace a little. Oikawa Tooru, it recites in a neat print. A handwritten print. “Tooru wrote me? From Argentina? He knows how to send mail?”
Akaashi’s half-smile flickers over his face. “One would think sending a text might be easier but Oikawa-san always needs a little flair.”
Suga snorts, eyes still scanning the penned letters of his own name. A letter. From Oikawa. My letter. That Oikawa wrote.
“I’m off. I should get this chapter edited before Bokuto-san calls tonight and keeps me up until sunrise.” Akaashi’s voice cuts through Suga’s thoughts. His departure leaves just Suga and the letter.
Feelings that threaten to leave a burn bubble to the surface as Suga tears carefully at the envelope. A simple piece of printer paper flutters out and opens on the wooden dining table.
‘Suga-chan,
I know exactly what you’re thinking! You’re thinking ‘Oikawa-san why would you bother sending me mail when I’m only a phone call away?’. Think of it this way— to send this letter from Argentina, it was posted nearly a month ago. That requires care and attention, wouldn’t you say? Feels nostalgic maybe?’
Care and attention, Suga snorts. Exactly the words I’d describe him with.
‘Regardless, I hear you’re in Japan teaching. I know you said you liked working with children but I figured training Chibi-chan and Tobio-kun might have quashed that. Then again, you never were one to give up very easily.’
Suga’s cheeks grow red.
‘Argentina is warm and competitive. There are things to learn here I’d never think about in Japan. I’m a whole new person, really. And lucky for you, you’ll get to meet the new me this holiday season!’
Leave it to Oikawa to talk about coming home like he’s a woman switching to tampons in a commercial.
‘Yes, I’ll be back for the New Year just in time for the New Years party that I’m desperately hoping you’re hosting because none of those other idiots in Miyagi could plan anything cohesive. I’m looking forward to catching up with you, Suga-chan. It’s been far too long.
Yours,
Oikawa Tooru
Suga lets out the slow breath that had been burning through his lungs. It’s been years since he and Oikawa had been anything more than high school rivals. The thought of Oikawa back in Miyagi shouldn’t make his heart thrash but it does and Suga isn’t sure yet how to feel about it.
He folds the letter carefully before stalking into his room, leaving his tea out on the table, forgotten.
The drawer in his dresser falls open, filled to the brim with scraps of paper and empty envelopes. Suga grabs a handful carefully, clinging to each word as if reading them for the first time.
‘Nice game.’
‘Your set’s getting better. Paying more attention to me?’
‘Let’s practice tonight. 8pm Karasuno gym.’
‘Behind the mart after the match?’
‘It’s illegal for you to wear black and orange after you’ve stolen three Seijoh hoodies :P’
The last one makes Suga’s chest burn a little.
His list of ex-lovers isn’t extensive but adding Oikawa to the top of it was a… controversial choice. Somedays, Suga looks back fondly on kisses stolen between matches at Inter-Highs, interlocked hands on warm days, notes slipped under practice gear or stuck to the bottom of water bottles. It was one of those dizzying loves. A whirlwind of hushed infatuation that was always meant to end.
Other days, though, Suga remembers letters answered late, days of silence, vague excuses murmured between empty kisses. It got stale fast. It got stale faster their third-year when Karasuno was strong enough to go a distance Seijoh couldn’t follow.
They kept in touch but the letters that had once been the language of love between them suddenly lost their fluency. Their lives got busy after graduation and the ocean Oikawa put between them didn’t help.
Suga moved on easily, then. It felt natural to keep himself busy with studies and students and adulthood. Besides, staying friends was just easier with their colliding friend circles. But he can’t say that he doesn’t miss Oikawa’s cheeky smile and his ridiculous nicknames Suga secretly loved.
And now, a new letter to join his collection falls into his lap.
He shuts it into the drawer of memories.
His day continues from there with the weather hardly lifting at all. 5pm, and with it the darkness of evening, falls quickly. Suga keeps himself occupied with grading, cooking, calls to Daichi and Kageyama. Akaashi wasn’t wrong when he said Kageyama and Hinata couldn’t put together a party to save their lives.
Every time Suga stops, though, his thoughts race against each other. Should I write back? What would I say? Where even is he now?. A letter to Argentina wouldn’t reach in time. Could he already be in Japan? Where would he stay? Hajime-san’s place? His sister’s? His parents’?
Finally, when the clock hits 12am, he works up the nerve to write back. Sprinkles of Akaashi’s rare laughter and Bokuto’s imposing voice seep in from beneath his bedroom door but Suga isn’t bothered.
‘Oikawa,’ he pens, trying to forget how easily the name slides from the end of his pen.
‘It’s great to hear you’ll be back for the New Year. Fair warning, Akaashi and I aren’t hosting the party this year. Our favorite proteges are trying their hand at it. Pack some snacks, last I heard Kageyama wanted to serve onigiri and Hinata was pushing for meat buns, neither of which either of them knows how to make. It should be interesting to say the least!
It would be nice to see
Maybe we could catch up behind the
I still have the keys to the Karasuno gym if you
I’m happy you’re back in Japan. Give me a call when you get this letter! Time to switch to modern technology, Mr. Argentina.
Yours Truly,
Sugawara Koushi’
~
The next morning, the clouds lift and Suga’s winter birds tweet praises through his window. His 8am wakeup left him invigorated and ready to set out into the day.
The chill of December shoves Suga’s freezing hands deeper into his pockets, where the signed letter is tucked. He skims over the writing on the envelope, ‘Please deliver to Oikawa-san! Thank you!’. Oikawa’s sister is no stranger to being a quick messenger for their exchanges, though she’ll be just as surprised as Suga was yesterday.
Before he can think about it too hard, he slips the letter beneath her door and fast-walks away into the cold.
The call comes about six minutes after Suga’s arrived at home. He nearly drops his phone on the pick up. “Hello?”
“Modern technology has always been overrated, Suga-chan.”
Suga snorts. “Always nice to hear from you, Oikawa.”
“Is it?” his voice is teasing.
Suga sighs, his eyes on his yesterday’s forgotten tea. “Yeah.” he smiles. “It is.”