Chapter 10
Asahi winced when they heard the bathroom door open. Suga came out, wiping his hands on his pants. He joined them again with a big smile, but it fell from his face just as Daichi was about to open his mouth. Suga looked pointedly at Asahi and the latter shrunk under Suga’s unforgiving gaze. “Why do you look like you have your tail between your legs, Asahi?”
Instead of answering the question, he muttered something unintelligible. Suga stared him down and it made Asahi’s reluctance to meet Suga’s gaze even stronger, so Daichi stepped in to try to help. He slipped in next to Suga, wrapped an arm around his neck, and pulled him close to kiss him lightly on temple. The tickle of Suga’s hair against his nose and the warmth of his skin under his mouth provided a welcome sense of encouragement, despite the stiffness of Suga’s shoulders.
“He told me about your book,” Daichi said into Suga’s hair with a smile. “That’s really amazing.” He kissed Suga’s temple again, but he didn’t react. Instead, he kept staring at Asahi, who looked around the bar frantically.
“Noya’s not gonna save you,” Suga said in a syrupy voice.
Asahi gulped. “Suga, I’m sorry, you said you would tell him tonight, I figured you would’ve before you came out because you’ve been planning it forev - OW!” Suga interrupted him with a strong smack and Asahi grabbed his side at the same time he turned away to hide the vulnerable spot. Suga rubbed his hands together and looked poised to strike again. Daichi stayed a couple paces away for good measure. It wasn’t long into their relationship that he realized Suga’s responses, whether they were happy or sad, involved a heavy dose of violence. When Daichi got his scheduled, not even remotely exciting, raise the month before, Suga punched him so hard in the stomach that he had trouble breathing. Daichi raised a hand to his mouth to cover the smile breaking out over his face and he looked to Suga, but, instead of hitting Asahi again, Suga let his hands rest at his side.
“We’ll talk later,” he warned Asahi, “after you let me know that you and Noya got home safely.” Suga turned to Daichi and tried to smile, “I think I’m ready to go, but you can definitely stay if you want.”
“No, I’m good, and it seems like the rest of the party has died down, anyway.” Daichi gestured to Hinata and Kageyama, who had their coats on, Noya and Tanaka with their arms around each other and looked like they would pass out at any second, and Yachi and Kiyoko making out in a corner booth. And, if Daichi were being honest, nothing sounded better than taking Suga back to his house and showering him with all of the affection and pride that had been welling up in his chest since hearing the news from Asahi. “Back to my place? We can have dinner and you can tell me all about your book.”
“Oh, sure,” Suga agreed with a long exhale. There was something in Suga’s eyes, something that weighed on the corners of his mouth and didn’t allow him to smile fully. It wasn’t immediately obvious, and Suga did an excellent job of hiding it, but Daichi had spent the last handful of months cataloguing each and every glimmer, glint, and cast of his eyes, as well as every shape of his lips, every dimple of his smile, and every crinkle around the corners of his eyes. He was so thorough that he worried about the brain space he needed for his actual job.
“You okay?” Daichi asked as he helped Suga into his coat. His arms filled his sleeves and Suga flipped the scarf around his neck. Suga chewed on the question and stared into space for a second before nodding with another half-smile.
Daichi figured they could talk more at his apartment, so they waved to the remaining group of people from the door, and Daichi held the door open for Suga pass through first.
The ride was quiet and Daichi glanced over at Suga whenever he could. He stared out the window and Daichi was treated to the red, green, blue, and white lights that reflected off each ashen strand of hair, strands that quivered when the car hit a bump or patch of gravel.
Daichi unlocked the door of his apartment and flipped on the lights to find his table immaculately set. The image was almost eerie and the room was cold, like there were ghosts at the place settings without being able to eat. He laughed to himself, not sure if the thought would’ve ever occurred
He turned to Suga, who was already at the fridge, removing neatly stacked tupperwares of what Daichi assumed was the meal that Suga had made while Daichi was finishing up work. He spotted tofu, noodles, soft boiled eggs, and broth. The makings of shoyu ramen, Daichi’s favorite. Suga took clean pots off of the drying rack, ones that Daichi could only assume he had cleaned after cooking because the kitchen was spotless, and started emptying contents into pans and spinning burner dials.
It was a lot to take in, all the work Suga had put into his favorite meal, made specifically to celebrate incredibly personal news that Suga hadn’t been able to share the way he wanted. “I’m sorry,” Daich blurted.
Suga waved off the apology with a flick of the wrist. “It’s alright, I mean, extenuating circumstances and other awesome news, right?”
“Right.” The bowls on the table and Daichi’s good chopsticks gleamed at him. He wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say, but simply agreeing didn’t seem like enough. He pretended to wipe off the table, which was already clean. Suga had been thorough. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked meekly.
“Nope,” Suga said from the stove. “Everything’s ready, it just needs a couple minutes to heat up.”
“Right,” Daichi said again.
Suga hummed to himself and Daichi watched him work until he served them straight from the pots. It was quiet except for the clinking of chopsticks and water sloshing in glasses. Daichi took a sip of the broth and closed his eyes. “This is perfect,” he groaned. “Can’t believe you made my favorite for your big day.”
“It’s not really my big day,” Suga said with a half-hearted laugh. “But thanks.”
Daichi smiled back and tried to argue, but Suga steered away from the subject. They relapsed into silence while they ate. When he was finished, he leaned back on his hands and complimented the chef again. Suga made a move to clean up, but Daichi reached across to stop him. “Hey, no way. I’ll get that.”
Daichi scooted closer to him and rubbed his arms, enjoying the feel of Suga’s slender arms under his hands. He noticed that Suga didn’t respond to the touch, like he didn’t earlier at the bar, and it made him anxious, so he pulled on all of his customer service experience and started to fill the silence, hoping to give Suga a buffer, or at least time to figure out what he wanted to say. “You know, all those months ago, when you were just a hot author at a random comic convention, I was bummed when I finished your books because it was the only way I could be close to you.” Suga shot him a skeptical look and the side of his mouth curved into a half-smile. “I’m serious! I didn’t know what to do with myself when I ran out of things to read!” Daichi emphasized.
Suga smiled genuinely for the first time that night and let out a little laugh, encouraging Daichi, so he continued. “So now that my dreams have come true, tell me everything. Is it the story you were doing research for the other weekend? The one with the serial killer’s house that built itself to house the spirits of the people she murdered?”
Suga shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself and looked down at the table.
“Hey,” Daichi leaned in and tried to make eye contact with him, but Suga scrunched up his face and looked away, so he took Suga’s hands in his and rubbed circles on his skin.
“Sorry, it’s just,” Suga started with a sigh. “I feel like such an asshole.”
Daichi took one hand out of Suga’s and moved his fingers to Suga’s forehead to push a troublesome lock out of the way. “If there's anything I know, it's that you’re not an asshole, Suga. What’s wrong?”
Suga blew air through closed lips. “Kageyama and Hinata got such amazing news today, and I’m happy for them, but here I am, still a pouty jerk.”
“It’s okay to be jealous,” Daichi offered. “They did sort of steal your spotlight.”
“That’s not what’s bothering me,” Suga snapped. “I don’t care about all that. You should know me well enough by now.”
“Okay…” Daichi was at another loss. “Please tell me what’s bothering you,” he pleaded. He wasn’t sure he could take any more of the pain written into the lines on Suga’s face.
“It’s just, you were the person I was most excited to tell, and I drove myself nuts trying to figure out how best to share it, so I planned this dinner and did everything I could to make sure that it would be perfect because my book is this,” Suga stretched out his arms to illustrate his point, “huge thing and I understand that Kageyama and Hinata’s thing was important, but I thought you’d at least honor the plans we made first? Is that too much?” Suga was out of breath by the time he stopped.
“I don’t think it’s too much,” Daichi conceded, “but it made much more sense for all of us to head right to the bar from the mall. You should’ve just told me how important this dinner was.”
“I get that,” Suga said quietly. “It definitely made sense for you guys to leave together, but we had plans first and you brushed them off. It’s us,” Suga motioned between them, “and I thought that you would put us first.”
Daichi ran his hands through his hair and dug into his scalp as he replayed the chain of events in his head. Of course all of their plans were important and he did want to put them first, but he was still stuck on the fact that Suga didn’t make it clear how critical this particular night was for him. Daichi knew Suga wanted to talk about something, but how was he supposed to gauge the level of importance? He asked it aloud.
“That’s my fault, I guess,” Suga admitted. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Maybe we should just skip the surprises from now on, just to make sure that no one gets hurt again?”
The words sounded good in his head, reasonable and logically sound, but as soon as Daichi said them, he regretted it. The color drained from Suga’s face and his hands fell to his sides. Suga’s nose twitched and he drew his lips together like he was trying not to cry. “No more surprises? Is that really the answer?”
Daichi panicked. “I mean, maybe little ones, but do we need them anymore? It was fun while we were getting together but now that we’re in a relationship maybe they’re not as important?” As he tried to explain himself, the dumbfounded look on Suga’s face made him feel like he was digging himself deeper into the ground.
“Is that how you really feel?”
“They just lead to miscommunication,” Daichi pointed out. “And no surprises kind of means that we’re totally comfortable around each other, right? Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to try to impress each other anymore now that we’re secure in our relationship?”
“Secure enough to not have to impress each other?” Suga asked with a furrowed brow. “Is that really what you want out of a relationship?”
“Maybe?” Daichi shrugged and tried to be nonchalant, but Suga’s eyes cut him like a blade and his insecurities and past relationship experiences were already clawing their way out of his body and spewing their guts before he had time to process it. “I mean, what did you think? That things would be exciting forever? That’s not realistic.”
“I know that things can’t stay shiny and new forever, but that all seems suspiciously like giving up,” Suga said guardedly.
Daichi shook his head. “It’s not giving up, it’s just the natural evolution of things, you know? And I’m not the most exciting guy out there, Suga.”
“What are you talking about?” Suga asked, the question laced with worry. “That’s not what I meant, I-”
The words bubbled out of Daichi’s throat, falling out one after another. “That’s what it sounded like, Suga. I’m a boring, run of the mill, standard guy, and I’m fine with it, but you knew that going in.”
“You’re not boring and that’s not what I said,” Suga responded flatly.
“I’m just telling you how I see it,” Daichi quipped, weary from the conversation, the way Suga’s face twisted into knots and the way his self-image pressed into his mind, punctuated by the guilt of knowing that he wasn’t making things any better and feeling inadequate for not knowing how to proceed.
Suga wiped his eyes and stood up. Daichi reached for him, but Suga was just out of arm’s length. “I think I’m going to go.”
“Okay,” Daichi said weakly, still on the floor.
Suga leaned down and took Daichi’s face in tentative hands to look him in the eyes, then pressed their mouths together. The kiss itself was soft, and longer than Daichi would’ve thought for two people just pressing their lips together. Suga’s mouth was warm against his and Daichi fought with himself. He desperately wanted to grab Suga, to keep him there, to apologize until he couldn’t speak anymore, to listen to him talk all night, to beg him to let him read his book and tell him how much he loved it.
But, in the end, Daichi didn’t raise his arms, didn’t grab Suga’s hand when he held it over Daichi’s heart for a brief moment before pulling it away, didn’t stand up to walk Suga out, and didn’t say anything when Suga searched his face with his lips parted, like there were words not quite formed dangling from his lips. He didn’t get up when Suga put his coat on at the door and he didn’t stop the door from closing behind him.
Daichi stared after Suga for what felt a long time. He got up to deposit the bowls in the sink, but, instead of washing them, he leaned against the counter with his cell phone. He wrote out him a message, thought better of it, and erased it from the screen.
He did the dishes and checked his phone again. Nothing. He wrote out another message to Suga and this time, instead of thinking about it, he sent it immediately.
To: Suga
Home safe?
There was no response, so Daichi collapsed on the couch with his laptop and scoured the web for information about Suga’s book. He came across a couple forums and rumors, but didn’t see anything definitive. Daichi chewed on the inside of his lip. He searched again, but this time for Hinata and Kageyama’s newest collaboration. The screen exploded with news, even though it just became public that day.
Daichi was happy for them, and he knew Suga was happy for them, perhaps more excited for them than he was for himself, and Suga’s news wasn’t public yet, but he snarled at the computer anyway.
He closed his laptop and rolled over on the couch to look across the apartment, a place that looked nothing like it did before Suga. There was the spider plant by the living room window and Suga saying “trust me, even you won’t be able to kill it.” And a framed picture of Captain America and Suga helping him hang it on the wall, saying “a little to the left Daichi” and wrapping his arms around Daichi’s waist as they looked at it. Pictures of them that Suga had printed, chastising Daichi when he made fun of him for being old-fashioned and saying “who wouldn’t want to see my face when they come into a room, huh?” A pile of books on the coffee table, some of them newer editions of Suga’s titles, signed, some of them recommendations that Suga brought over saying “seriously Daichi, read the first volume and tell me how disgusting you think it is.”
That was just the living room. The bedroom floor was littered with gross anatomy pictures, zines with local ghost stories, and hurried outlines on the backs of opened envelopes. There was even a red paint splatter from the time Suga thought it would be cool to be like the detectives on TV and test blood spatters. “You know, for science,” Suga had said through giggles, dressed in one of Daichi’s old band shirts. Daichi had stayed mad for all of three seconds before scooping him up under the thighs and tearing at the cotton shirt with his teeth. He liked everything better that way. His apartment, his time, his life. Daichi's phone buzzed and he almost fell off the couch grabbing for it.
From: Suga
Yeah, Hinata and Tobio are here for some reason?
Daichi snorted, giddy with relief.
To: Suga
Have earplugs?
The reply came instantly.
From: Suga
They’re already passed out, thank god. No animal sex noises tonight.
Daichi zoomed in on the attached picture. Kageyama was lying on Suga’s couch, which was too short for him, so one leg hooked over the armrest and the other hung off the cushion and planted firmly on the carpet. On top on him, Hinata was squished between Kageyama and the back of the couch, almost underneath the cushions. You wouldn’t have known there was a person there except for the shock of orange hair and bare, tattooed arm flung haphazardly over Kageyama’s chest. He couldn’t imagine that being comfortable, but, then again, amazingly, Hinata and Kageyama made it work.
To: Suga
Are we okay?
The answer to Daichi’s question didn’t come until hours later, while he tossed and turned in bed.
From: Suga
Think so. just need time?
Daichi bit his lip in the dark.
To: Suga
Of course.