Satellite

Suga’s first week at work was a blur.

After the initial greetings, he had been set to work with everyone over the course of the week so that he could learn what everyone in the office did and how the mechanics of the organization worked. It hadn’t taken Suga long to notice that everyone was overworked, so he had made it his personal mission to figure out what each person needed in order to make their lives easier.

He had learned that it was relatively easy to get a rise out of Kuroo, which made it difficult for him to deal with the more snarky vendors and support providers. Suga had volunteered to handle those relationships.

Yachi was an excellent coordinator who always worked hard to make sure they had enough volunteers to go through donations, but she was shy and easily overwhelmed by large groups of people. Suga had volunteered to talk to the larger groups of people, and, when he was there, he would keep an eye on her, just to make sure she had the support she needed.

Ennoshita got overwhelmed with Daichi’s emails, donation paperwork, and voice messages, but had never told Daichi for fear of worrying him. Suga had volunteered to help where he could, whether it meant data entry or taking down messages.

Tsukishima, who preferred his full name, was the hardest to read, but, eventually, Suga had figured out how he could help. Tsukishima didn’t have a personal number at his desk, just the office number, and Suga had caught him ignoring calls on multiple occasions. By the end of the week, Suga had figured out how to hook two lines up to his phone at reception and screen the calls coming into the office. When Tsukishima had figured out Suga’s scheme, he went out of his way to thank him, which had left the office speechless. Suga counted it as a victory.

Akaashi and Bokuto were their own perfectly functioning island. In fact, Akaashi had been taken aback when Suga had offered his help. He had been a little hurt at first, but, after observing them, he understood. Akaashi knew Bokuto’s weaknesses and strengths better than the back of his hands and Bokuto was surprisingly good at his job. The whiteboard had come out a number of times that week as Bokuto had pulled in more and more money.

Akaashi and Bokuto had also shown Suga the importance of knocking on closed doors. Halfway through the week, Suga had opened the door to the supply closet and was met with the back of Bokuto’s head and a piercing green eye, the other obscured by Bokuto’s two-toned hair. Bokuto turned and asked earnestly if Suga needed anything, like he hadn’t just been caught making out in a closet. Akaashi had just raised his eyebrows and politely asked him to knock next time. When neither Akaashi nor Bokuto moved from their compromising positions, Suga had just closed the door and walked away, without the printer paper he needed. Lesson learned.

And then there was Daichi. As the week wore on, he had spent increasingly long breaks at Suga’s desk and Suga had to admonish him constantly for wasting time. Suga had felt a little bad for giving him a hard time, but, by the end of the week, he had fallen into the role naturally.

It had been a great week, but, by Saturday, Suga was exhausted. He sat in a nest of blankets on Asahi’s couch and cupped a mug of green tea. The owner of the apartment was not there; Suga received a mysterious text about him having breakfast with someone, followed by an apologetic message to let Suga know that he was okay and that he would be back that evening. Suga wanted to pry, oh goodness, did he want to, but he held back. For the time being. Asahi would open up when the time was right.

Suga sat in front a pile of his old notebooks and spread some across the couch and coffee table with the idea that he would write for a little while before shopping for food, doing laundry, and catching up on errands. He had no idea where to start, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to go over and possibly rewrite some of his older stuff.

As he read, he wondered what he would be able to bring to their “band practice” the next day. He didn’t know anything about music except that he loved it, and he certainly knew nothing about writing lyrics for songs. He did the tiniest bit research the night before, but it didn’t do much to assuage his self doubt. At the very least, he had volunteered to cook food for everyone, so he took a little comfort in that he would be able to provide sustenance for the group, if not any artistic or creative talent.

Suga took a big sip of his tea and stared down at a couple lines he had written years ago, after one of his many failed relationship attempts. He read the words aloud.

    Well, see what you want to see. You should see it all.
    Well, take what you want from me. You deserve it all.
    Nine times out of ten, our hearts just get dissolved.
    Well, I want a better place, or just a better way to fall.

The past five years hadn’t been all bad, but they hadn’t been all good, either. The last time he told a potential love interest that he was a sex worker, the guy thought it meant free, kinky sex anytime, anywhere. Suga scrunched up his face and shook his head to rid himself of the memory. The guy before that looked at him like he was dirt on a freshly-washed floor. He read the final couplet.

    But one time out of ten, everything is perfect for us all.
    Well, I want a better place, or just a better way to fall.

Suga’s own relationships might have failed spectacularly, but not everyone had his bad luck. He grabbed his phone and called the only “one time out of ten” person he knew. When the call went through, Suga put the phone on speaker and snuggled back into his blankets.

“Hello? Suga?”

“Hi Yaku. Do you have a minute? Sorry for not calling sooner, I know it’s been awhile...”

“Suga my sweet! It’s totally fine! How are things? How are you? Are you okay?”

He let the sing-song cadence of Yaku’s voice wash over him. Asahi sometimes joked that Suga was a mom-friend. If that was the case, Yaku was the mom-friend multiplied by three. “I’m okay, just trying to settle into life back here. I’m staying with Asahi until I get my own place. And I got a job! Like, a resume job. I started this past Tuesday. How’re you?

Suga heard Yaku sigh on the other end of the line.

“Oh, same ol’ same ol’ on my end. Enough about me, though. I’m so glad you found something. Whoever hired you must’ve seen how much of a treasure you are. What’re you doing?”

He buried his face into his blankets to hide his blush. “Uh, it’s not super exciting, but it’s something. I’m a receptionist at this non-profit that takes donations for kids. The organization is awesome and my coworkers are good people.” Suga paused. “Actually, Yaku, I called because I need some advice.”

Cool! They’re lucky to have you. Advice? I’ll try to help the best I can...

Suga looked at the blanket that he held in his hands. “I wanted to ask about you and Lev. How do you make it work?”

Yaku answered immediately. “Honest and open communication, Suga. That’s huge. Lev and I talk about everything, even if it seems trivial, or redundant, or stupid.”

He mulled over Yaku’s response. It was something that he had heard a million times before but it never seemed to register completely. “That makes sense, but how’d he take it when you told him you were a sex worker? That you weren’t planning on giving up your clients? Weren’t you scared that you’d lose him?”

“I was terrified to tell him. Oh my gosh. I had nightmares about it for weeks. But, when I sucked it up, sat him down, and told him, he was surprised more than anything, I think. It was totally new territory for him. He’s also a younger than me, so maybe he’s just more accepting? Young people these days.” Yaku laughed after his last comment.

Suga hummed and, before he could respond, Yaku started to talk again.

“Why d’you ask?”

“I think I met someone. Well, I met him ages ago but we reconnected a couple weeks ago.” Suga bit his lip. “He’s perfect, Yaku, and I” Suga’s voice cracked, “and I’m not ready to lose him.”

“My darling, I highly doubt he’s perfect. No one is. If you’re really serious about getting to know him, you have to tell him. Sooner rather than later. You know that. If he’s a jerk about it, he’s not worth your time.”

“He might be too good for me,” Suga whispered into the blankets.

“I couldn’t hear you just now, but I KNOW you didn’t put yourself down. Don't make me travel down there and kick your ass!”

Suga smiled in spite of himself. Yaku was one of the few people he kept in touch with over the years for precisely that reason; he took shit from nobody. “Wouldn’t dream of it! Hey, one more question. Does Lev get jealous? I mean, he couldn’t have been keen on the whole situation.”

It took a couple of seconds for Yaku to answer. “Yeah, he does, and some days are easier than others, but we talk it out and he gets it. We have ways of making sure that our sex life is special. It’s funny. I think I get jealous more than he does. He’s a very handsome guy. And tall. Very tall. Sticks out like a sore thumb.”

Suga laughed. He could almost hear Yaku smile on other side of the line. “That makes sense. I guess I’ve just never really had an actual, functioning, adult relationship.”

“Which I always find incredibly hard to believe. Are you still writing?”

“I am! Interestingly enough, I think I might be writing songs for a band?” Suga looked down at his notebooks and let his nerves take control. It was the first time he said it aloud to someone that wasn't in the newly-minted band.

“Holy crap! That’s awesome! How’d you get into that?”

Before Suga could answer, he heard a yelp and a crash on Yaku’s end.

“Oh boy. Lev’s up. I’m sorry to do this to you, but we planned to stay in this morning and make pancakes. Lev is trying to get dishes out of the cabinet and can’t seem to use his hands for anything other than destroying my kitchen. Typical.”

Suga heard a disgruntled “hey” from Lev and a choice words from Yaku. “Donn't let me keep you from pancakes! And thank you, Yaku.”

“Sure thing. Anytime, honestly. I miss you. You’re wonderful. Don’t forget it. And don’t forget to call me again soon so that you can tell me EVERYTHING, especially about your band! I’m still so excited for you!”

Suga nodded even though no one could see him. “Of course! Say ‘hi’ to Lev for me. Bye!”

Yaku hung up the phone after saying his goodbyes and and Suga took a deep, fortifying breath. Both Yaku’s and Asahi’s words from the week before rang in his mind. He would tell Daichi tomorrow, before the rest of the guys showed up, just in case things went poorly and he had to leave. He ran his hands through his hair, grabbed a pencil, and went back to work.

Sunday morning rolled around and Suga was on the bus to Daichi’s house. While his last bus mistake led him straight to Daichi, he worried that he wouldn’t be so lucky the next time. He shifted the paper grocery bag in his lap and watched the city pass by through the bus window.

Everything was different. He was back in a place he knew intimately, but it didn’t feel that way. The old neighborhoods had evolved and new ones had sprung up, old businesses closed and new ones opened. His parents had since retired and moved out of town. He didn’t keep in touch with anyone from high school, or from his three years at the local university. It was a strange feeling, that he was technically 'back' but had nothing to stand on, no foundation on which to rely.

Suga put on the headphones that hung around his neck and turned his music to shuffle for a break from his thoughts. The first song to come on was one of his new favorites, a song by The Court that he had heard for the first time while looking into Daichi’s eyes.

The first few notes reminded him of wind chimes on a summer night and there was a calm, spacey quality to The Court’s songs that Suga liked. A few beats of the drums welcomed Oikawa’s voice.

    I was waiting for a cross-town train in the London underground when it struck me
    That I've been waiting since birth to find a love that would look and sound like a movie.
    So, I changed my plans, I rented a camera and a van, and then I called you.
    “I need you to pretend that we are in love again" and you agreed to.

Suga continued to stare out the window as he processed Oikawa’s words. This particular song started out rather light-hearted, as if Oikawa were a kid possessed by some crazy, impulsive idea that he had to play out.

    I want so badly to believe that "there is truth, that love is real,"
    And I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd.

With the chorus, the song took a more serious turn. The music was peppy and the beat was fast, but there was a significant contrast between the music and lyrics. At first, Suga thought the words suggested hope, but, the more he listened to it, the more he felt like the hope masked something darker, something sadder.

    I greased the lens and framed the shot using a friend as my stand-in.
    The script, it called for rain but it was clear that day so we faked it.
    The marker snapped and I yelled "quiet on the set" and then called "Action!"
    And I kissed you in a style that Clark Gable would have admired (I thought it classic).

The scene was sweet, dramatic, and a little comedic; none of it was real and it broke Suga’s heart.

    I want so badly to believe that "there is truth, that love is real,"
    And I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd.

Ah, the chorus again. The last words of each verse tapered off, betraying a lack of certainty. It sounded to Suga that even though the singer was singing about the search, he had already given up.

    I know you're wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear
    That your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

Suga pondered the last lines. To whom was Oikawa talking? Himself? He spent the rest of the ride wondering if the lyrics were a simple narrative or whether it was something a little closer to Oikawa’s heart.

Suga got off the bus at the right stop (he double and triple checked), and walked to the address that Daichi told him. He shifted a ripped paper bag in his arms as he looked at the house in front of him. Home. It was a home. He wasn’t able to describe the feeling, but all of the emptiness he felt at the beginning of the bus ride faded away.

The house itself was small, but it was happily situated on a nice-sized lot and surrounded by trees. Two large windows flanked a portico that welcomed guests to the front door. The house was olive green with dark wood accents. Suga took the pathway to the door and raised his hand to the door.

Daichi answered the door right before Suga knocked, which startled him so badly that he flailed his arms, ripped the paper bag in half, and tipped all of the contents onto the porch.

“Ah! Suga! Hey! I’m so sorry!” Daichi yelped and bent down to pick up the groceries.

When the groceries were gathered, Suga laughed. “Guess I know how to make an entrance, huh?”

“Guess so,” Daichi said with a big grin and beckoned Suga inside.

They set the groceries in kitchen and Daichi gave Suga a quick tour. The basement was set up with a drum kit, amps, and guitars on stands. Since Daichi was on a hill, the basement had a big glass door that opened up onto a concrete porch and an unkempt backyard. Suga hugged his arms close to his body. He imagined setting up dinner for his friends at the empty patio table. He imagined their laughter. He imagined grabbing Daichi’s hand under the table and making him blush.

Back inside, Daichi showed him his guitars before they returned to the main floor. After a bit of needling on Suga’s part, Daichi showed him his room. Suga brought his hands to his mouth to cover his laughter; it looked like a teenager lived there. Band posters littered the walls, clothes were all over the floor, and his bedside table looked like a stack of paper had exploded there ten years ago. Suga wanted to go through every paper, every ticket, and every photo. He wanted to find yearbooks, class pictures, notes in the books Daichi had strewn about the surfaces in the room. He wanted to know everything. Eventually, Daichi physically pushed Suga out of his room and they made their way to the kitchen.

Suga brought snacks as well as ingredients for dinner, a hearty Italian lasagna-type casserole that would fill everyone up. He tasked Daichi with cutting vegetables into bite-sized pieces for snacks while he started on the main course. They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Suga’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Oikawa writes his own songs, right?”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah. When the band first formed, I don’t think Oikawa stopped writing, not even to sleep.” His brow furrowed. “Why? What made you think of it?

“I was listening to The Court on the way over here. His lyrics are really good and it made me wonder how many of his songs are him and how many are just, I guess just a narrative device.” Suga listened to Daichi chop vegetables next to him. Had Oikawa been in love? Had his heart been broken? “You’ve known him awhile… Do you know much about his love life?” Suga asked.

Daichi brought the knife down on the cutting board and looked over. “I have, but we’re not super close. I only know bits and pieces from a long time ago. Why do you ask?”

Suga shrugged. “Honestly? He writes about love like a deeply sad person who wears a smile like a mask, so I was curious.”

“Ah,” Daichi let out the breath he was holding. “From what I know, Oikawa’s relationships have been complicated. Well, the one relationship was complicated. He and Iwaizumi have been friends forever, and everyone’s sort of always known it was more than friendship on Oikawa’s part. They got very close to getting together and then, well, nothing happened. It was weird. Nothing seemed to change though. He’s had girlfriends since then and seems to be doing alright.”

Suga hummed. That answered his question. One doesn’t fall in love with their best friend, have nothing happen, and come away unscathed. The sadness must’ve been real. He has probably been wearing that mask so long that it had become a part of him.

“Is something wrong?” Daichi asked.

There would be a time to talk more in depth about other people’s relationship troubles, but this wasn’t that moment. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s really just songwriter stuff,” Suga said with an exaggeratedly haughty voice.

“Fair enough,” Daichi said with a deep chuckle.

Suga looked at him and ran through the lines he prepared for himself. He was going to have to learn to be vulnerable, to trust Daichi, if he wanted to move forward. “I really don’t know anything about songwriting, Daichi.”

Daichi continued chopping. “Me neither. But we’ll figure it out together,” He looked over at Suga and caught his gaze. “I’m game if you are?”

“Together?” Suga searched for the lie in Daichi’s eyes and found none. “Then I’m game,” he said with a decisive nod.

Their conversation lightened up as they focused on their respective tasks. Daichi finished chopping the vegetables, put them on a large plate, and helped Suga layer the sauce and cheese. Daichi sprinkled cheese over the last layer of noodles, covered the dish in plastic wrap, and put it in the fridge while Suga washed the dishes. It was comfortable, like they had been doing this forever.

Finally, they were finished. Suga glanced at the clock; Asahi, Noya, and Tanaka would be arriving in another hour or so. Suga looked at Daichi, who was staring at him, and looked down at the floor. He heard Daichi walk toward him and felt a calloused hand lift his chin. Once they were looking at each other, with Suga’s head tilted slightly back, Daichi used his other hand to brush a stray strand of silver hand behind Suga’s ear.

Suga leaned into Daichi and put his arms around his neck. Daichi put his hands on the counter behind Suga, on either side of his hips. They leaned in to let their foreheads touch. Suga felt the soft hair at the nape of Daichi’s neck and the puff of breath that landed on his neck. He took in every single detail, the warmth that radiated off Daichi’s chest, his racing heart, the stubble on his cheek, the way one of Daichi’s hands moved from the counter to Suga’s side, right below his ribcage.

“Hey,” Suga chirped.

“Hey,” Daichi said softly. Suga felt the muscles of Daichi’s face move into a smile.

Suga put a hand to Daichi’s chest and pushed him far enough away so that he could see his face.

“I need to tell you something,” Suga said in a low voice. He had the feeling that if he raised his voice, he would ruin the gentle intimacy of the moment.

Daichi watched Suga’s lips as he spoke and took in the rest of Suga’s face before he met Suga’s eyes with an eyebrow cocked in confusion. “Okay…”

Breathe in. Breathe out. He brought his hands to Daichi’s biceps to steady himself. “It’s just, after I left school, I - “

Suga was cut off by Daichi’s phone buzzing on the counter. They both glanced at the contact.

“Oh, it’s Tanaka. You should get it.”

Daichi looked at Suga like he didn’t understand the words. “I’ll call him back in a minute. This is important, Suga, what - “

The phone stopped buzzing, only to start again. Tanaka was calling a second time. Suga started to worry.

“Seriously, Daichi, it’s fine. Pick it up.”

Daichi nodded ‘no’ and pulled Suga closer. He sighed, grabbed Daichi’s phone, picked up the call, and pressed the phone to Daichi’s ear. He laughed at the betrayed look Daichi shot him before answering.

“What could you possibly want? I’ll see you in an hour… I’m sorry, run that by me again?”

Daichi’s whole body tensed and the color drained from his face. Suga’s worry blossomed into panic.

“Yep. Okay. Shut up. I’m coming over. Call 911 NOW and get OUT…. Text me when you’re all out of the apartment.” Daichi hung up the phone, closed his eyes, and put the phone to his forehead.

“What? What’s happening?” Suga tightened his grip on Daichi’s arms.

Daichi grimaced. “Apparently, Noya and Tanaka’s apartment is on fire. Asahi is there. I have to go over,” he pulled away. “I’m so sorry, Suga, you’re welcome to stay here, or if you want to take the bus home - “

Suga listened with wide eyes until he couldn’t stay quiet anymore and interrupted Daichi’s rambling. “Let’s go NOW, then.”

Before Daichi could respond, Suga had pushed him to the door and thrown his shoes at him. “We’re in this together, right?”

Daichi’s eyes lit up for a second before becoming serious again. “Right. Together.”

They grabbed their coats and ran to Daichi’s truck without another word.