Tendou stopped dead in his tracks and swivelled his head to Ushijima, his body bumping into his at the sudden halt. If Tendou was put off by it, it didn’t show; instead, he squawked, like a caught bird in surprise. His eyes shifted, searching his face, then narrowed. A glint of amusement and something like surprise rested easily within them.
“Was that a joke, Wakatoshi?” He sang, swinging their hands between them as if it provided further emphasis.
Ushijima waited a beat - just enough that a tiny side of Tendou’s mouth quirked up. Then, he looked straight ahead, knowing his face didn’t betray a smidge of what he was feeling.
“You know I don’t make jokes, Satori.”
A jerk of his hand pulled his gaze back to Tendou, now dissolved into a fit of giggles that shook and rattled his body so thoroughly, he looked as if he were dancing. What a nice thought, Ushijima mused as a smile crept onto his face. To laugh with your entire being.
On a random street, surrounded by houses and the cool gentility of winter’s nighttime, he’s content to watch the dancing-laugh, their hands twitching between them as Tendou leaned against Ushijima, catching his breath, wisps unfurling in the cold air. But just as soon as he quieted and Ushijima went to open his mouth, he started up again, laughing and laughing and laughing, his body shaking in tune against Ushijima’s arm. All Ushijima could do was watch, smiling.
Then, it hit him.
As gently as the season’s first snowflake dropped from the night sky, falling to the earth in a sure yet slow movement, taking its time to dance down to its new home, so did the warmth unfurl in Ushijima’s belly, expanding and unspooling until he felt it slip around his body and nestle around his heart. He felt as if he were glowing. It was in the tip of his fingers, at the end of his nose, lighting his eyes as he suddenly inhaled sharply; the outside cold doing nothing to subdue it.
Tendou pressed a hand to his mouth, physically stopping the few giggles that clambered out of him as he turned his eyes to Ushijima, questioning, concerned. He asked, muffled around his hand, “You okay?”
Ushijima could do nothing but blink. He stared at Tendou as if a question had never stumped him harder, as if the answer could be found in the red of his hair or the crinkle of his eyes. Then again, maybe it could.
Sometimes love doesn’t hit you. Sometimes, it just reminds you that it’s always been there.
Tendou poked at the edge of his mouth, cold fingertips lighting a blaze against his face. “You’re looking like a fish, you know that? Like-” Tendou mimed a fish opening and closing its mouth, before letting out a nose exhale that told Ushijima he found his own joke exceedingly funny.
Ushijima would tell him that, let loose his observation and that he liked Tendou’s impression, if not for the fact that opening his mouth was currently followed by nothing more than a quick shut of it. Truly, a fish. But there was also a flame in his throat, ignited within him, fanned by Tendou’s curious gaze. Ushijima was burning up. So he did the only thing he could do.
He leant forward, bumping foreheads and noses with a startled Tendou, and he closed his eyes.
“Wakatoshi?”
The first snowflake. In darkness, the words slipped out of him as easily as the first drops of a storm.
“I love you.”
The words sounded weird and awkward from his mouth, unused to being said, as dusty as a forgotten vinyl in his grandmother’s attic; but it didn’t matter. Though too quiet, too small for the symphony of feelings swirling within him much larger than what he said, he hoped it’s just enough for Tendou.
When he leaned back to open his eyes, wide ones stared back at him, glazed and swirling with something Ushijima couldn’t name but very much wanted to.
Tendou doesn’t say anything. Only a shaky breath escaped from his parted lips, the sound of it very, very small as if Tendou wasn’t even aware of it. Ushijima wanted to capture it, swallow each and every sound until they touched the brim of his being, finding home within him.
Tendou beat him to it.
Arms wrapped around his neck, Ushijima was tugged forward and pressed into a soft, warm kiss. Under the orange glow of a street lamp, he saw snowflakes dance in the air around Tendou’s hair, twirling and jumping and falling, before he closed his eyes and kissed the love of his life back.
Tendou sighed. Sure and slow.
And then Ushijima knows.
He knows that it was enough.
