Archive of Our Own ^beta

Keishin knew something was wrong when he didn’t see Ittetsu at the convenience store on Friday morning.  

It was a small ritual that remained unchanged even as their relationship grew from colleagues into something more. Ittetsu would stop by the convenience store before heading to school on Friday morning. He would buy a canned coffee drink because “You have to celebrate the weekend in little ways!” Their conversation would run through the usual topics: volleyball, their dinner plans that weekend, the health of Keishin’s grandfather, the plans Keishin’s friends were trying to make with them. 

Keishin hadn’t realized how much he loved the consistency of the visit until it didn’t happen. He felt itchy inside of his own skin. Tapping his fingers against the counter, Keishin glances at the clock. Was Ittetsu running late? Had something happened to him? He pulls out his phone and wonders if texting would be okay. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe Ittetsu is dead in a ditch.

Are you okay? I miss you this morning.

Keisin sends the message and holds his phone tightly in his hands. He stares down at the screen, willing Ittetsu’s response into existence. He doesn’t relax until he sees Ittetsu writing his response. 

Fine! Sorry! Running so late this morning!

Ittetsu attaches a gif of a cartoon cat bowing deeply in apology. It’s a relief to know that Ittetsu is alive, but he also knows Ittetsu fairly well at this point. Ittetsu, for all the nervous energy he carries in his body, is overly considerate of others’ feelings. Even if he was running late, Keishin knows that he would have sent him something to let him know. Hell, Keishin would have delivered the coffee to the school himself if he had known. But he doesn’t want to seem like he’s overreacting. Keishin has had his fair share of late, frantic mornings. Instead he texts back,

That’s okay, I was worried. I’ll see you at practice.

Love you.

Keishin is still getting used to saying those words. They’re a privilege, especially after the circuitous route it took for Keishin to come to terms with having feelings for Ittetsu in the first place. He’s still learning to say them out loud, but it’s easier like this, and Ittetsu knows he means it. 

Ittetsu doesn’t text him back but he does send a trio of heart emojis. It’s enough for now. Keishin sets a reminder in his phone to grab a coffee and one of the sweet matcha mochi treats that Ittetsu likes before he heads to practice this afternoon.

“All right, good hustle today!” 

The boys’ chatter is familiar as Keishin gathers his things into his duffel bag. He trusts the boys to clean up properly, especially with Daichi running the ship, but his mind is a million miles away today. Ittetsu had texted him about 10 minutes before practice that he wouldn’t be able to make it today. He’d begged off saying that there was some last minute grading he needed to do, but Keishin knows better than that. Despite popular belief, he wasn’t a complete idiot.

The hallways of the school are still familiar to Keishin even years removed from when he walked them every day. He finds his way to the teachers’ office and smiles when he sees Ittetsu’s head tucked into his work, his head bobbing in the way that Keishin knows it does when he’s listening to his music. 

Keishin opens the door quietly, reaching into his bag to grab the can of coffee that he knows is a bit too room temperature to really enjoy, and crosses the room. He sets it down on Ittetsu’s desk, smiling as the other man jumps in surprise. 

“You work too hard, Sensei,” Keishin teases, reaching back in his bag to grab the matcha mochi and holding it out in his palm for Ittetsu to take. “Or are you avoiding me today?”

Ittetsu flushes bright red and shakes his head furiously. “No! Not at all! I wouldn’t,” Ittetsu takes the mochi delicately from his hand and sighs. “Keishin, I’m sorry. I just...today has been a bad day.”

Keishin frowns and commandeers an empty chair to sit in. He rolls up next to Ittetsu, their legs brushing together comfortably in the privacy of the empty office. “Did the warm coffee and the mochi help?”

Ittetsu chuckles and takes off his glasses, wiping away a tear with the heel of his hand. “Yes, very much. I’m sorry.” 

“Ittetsu, what’s wrong?” Keishin reaches out and rests his hand on Ittetsu’s knee, watching the other man chew at his lower lip. “You’ve been weird all day and I’m not smart enough to figure out if I did something to upset you.” 

“You did nothing,” Ittetsu says quietly. He rests his hand on top of Keishin’s and offers him a weak smile. “I promise. It’s just...”

Ittetsu sighs and reaches into his desk drawer. He pulls out a letter that has his name and address written on it. The envelope is wrinkled in a way that Keishin can tell it’s been gripped tightly, maybe even thrown in the garbage before being dug out.

“I received a letter from my mother today,” Ittetsu puts it into Keishin’s hands. “I’d like you to read it.”

Keishin understands the gravity of the situation being presented to him. Keishin takes the letter carefully and meets Ittetsu’s eye before allowing them to fall to the letter to begin reading.

Ittetsu,

I do not know if you will read this letter, but I hope that you do. Your father has passed away after a long battle with illness. We are hosting memorial services. I ask you, please, consider coming home to pay your respects. You will be welcome here.

 

With love,

Mother

It’s shorter than he expected, and Ittetsu seems to sense when he’s done reading.“They’ve already had his funeral,” he says, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is just the memorial they’re hosting for extended family.”

Keishin peeks inside the envelope again and sees an invitation to the memorial next week with an address. “You haven’t spoken to them in years, right?”

“Not since,” Ittetsu swallows hard, the wound still raw even if it is old. “She says I’ll be welcome, but I’m still her gay son that her husband kicked out.”

Keishin folds the letter back up and tucks it into the envelope. “And this is also how you find out your dad died.”

“She couldn’t even invite me home for his funeral services,” Ittetsu laughs bitterly. “I’m just an afterthought! It’s...I’m angry. I’m upset. I wish she didn’t even write to me, but I-.” Ittetsu breathes and closes his eyes tightly.

“Do you...want to go?” Keishin asks carefully, scared to overstep but knowing Ittetsu well enough to finish his sentences. 

Ittetsu looks at Keishin with wide, watery eyes. “Would you come with me? If I asked?”

Keishin reaches out and pulls Ittetsu close to him, an embrace that would look like a hug if anyone should see them, but his lips brush against the corner of Ittetsu’s mouth. “Of course. It’s not even a question.”

Ittetsu laughs and Keishin brightens with the sound of it, capturing his lover’s lips in a proper kiss. “Maybe she’ll kick me out again when I show up with you,” Ittetsu whispers between them.

Keishin hums, his fingers brushing Ittetsu’s jawline. “I dunno. I’ve been told I’m very charming when I meet my date’s parents.”

“Really? I’ll have to see it to believe it.” This time it's Ittetsu who kisses him, but the sound of students’ laughter drifting down the hall pulls them apart. He puts his glasses back on and starts packing his bag. “I’m sorry about practice.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Keishin rises to his feet and returns his proffered chair back to its proper desk. “They boys were worried we got in a fight.”

Ittetsu’s eyes grow wide. “Oh, are you serious?”

Keishin chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “They thought the only reason you would miss practice was because I had done something so horrible and indefensible that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me.”

Ittetsu laughs and Keishin is glad that the tears in his eyes are happy ones now. “It’s kind of sweet, actually. Even if it’s at your expense.” 

“Oh, I’m glad you think so,” Keishin rolls his eyes but there’s no bitterness in his tone. “Sugawara said he wants to live with you if we get divorced.”

Ittetsu laughs again, high and bright, and Keishin wishes he could commit the exact lilt of his laughter to memory. He wants Ittetsu to always laugh like this and he wants to be the one to always make it happen. He hopes whatever lies ahead for them at his old family home doesn’t change things between them.

The journey to the memorial service is quiet and contemplative in a way that sets Keishin’s teeth on edge. He and Ittetsu would be missing a Karasuno practice, but Keishin had rallied the Karasuno Neighborhood Association to sub in as guest coaches. Takinoue was letting the title go to his head, but Shimada had promised to be the voice of reason and assured him there would be no issues. 

Despite Ittetsu’s insistence that he do it, Keishin is driving them to the memorial service. They had packed themselves and their overnight bags into Ittetsu’s admittedly too small car and set out early in the morning. Keishin had taken it upon himself to bring some of Ittetsu’s favorite snacks from the store, knowing he was a nervous snacker, but they were about halfway through their road trip and Ittetsu hadn’t eaten a single thing. 

Keishin’s fingers flex against the wheel of the car, the radio quietly filling the silence between them. He contemplates how badly he might put his foot in his mouth if he tried talking. 

“Do you know anyone else who might be going?” Keishin asks. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of them but sees Ittetsu turn to him out of the corner of his eye. “Do you...have a big family?”

Ittetsu hums and turns away again, looking out the passenger window. “I have a lot of cousins. My mother has two brothers and my father has a sister. My father was a businessman, so some of his old colleagues might be there.”

Keishin nods. Ittetsu has been estranged from his family for so long that the exact size and shape of it hadn’t been a topic of conversation between them. Keishin had felt like their life was so complete - between each other, the boys, the mutual friends they now shared - that he never thought it was important to ask. But now, literally driving into Ittetsu’s past, he feels like an idiot that he hadn’t asked any questions earlier.

“Should I um...do you want me to be your boyfriend?” Keishin glances at Ittetsu but is greeted with the side of his face. “I know I am, I mean-”

“I know,” Ittetsu shifts in his seat, finally turning and meeting Keishin’s gaze. “I don’t know how everyone will react. I’m not ashamed of you, but-”

“I know you’re not ashamed,” Keishin interrupts. “And you know I’m not. But if you feel safer not saying anything, I won’t.”

This is a conversation they’ve had before, the level of comfort they both have in publicly announcing themselves as a couple. Keishin had never dated a man before, but he’d been far more open about being open than Ittetsu had been when they started dating. They’d told the guys in the Neighborhood Association first, and they were more surprised that Ittetsu saw anything worth dating in Keishin than the fact that they were both men. Ittetsu didn’t want to come out to their coworkers, but they came out to the boys, Yachi and Kiyoko. They too were also more concerned about Keishin’s viability as a boyfriend, and they’d spent 15 minutes debating if they should look at them both as fathers and they were like their children. 

Even Keishin’s grandfather, who was in the hospital when they visited him to tell them the news, was supportive. 

“You should dump his lazy ass if he doesn’t treat you right,” Ukai had said, leaning back against his pillows in repose while Keishin sputtered out a weak defense. 

Ittetsu had held his hand then, squeezing it tightly in a way that Keishin had known meant he wouldn’t be dumping him any time soon. Keishin reached out now, across the seats and took Ittetsu’s hand in his. “It’s whatever you want,” Keishin says. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Ittetsu squeezes his hand and turns to look at him. “We’ll see how it goes,” Ittetsu replies, his voice small. “But I want to say it. I want to be proud with you.”

Keishin smiles, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “Then we’ll be proud. Screw ‘em if they don’t like it.”

Ittetsu had booked them a hotel room in town. He’d made sure the room had two beds so that the front desk clerk can’t give them any sort of stink eye. They stay only long enough to dress in proper, black, mourning formal wear before they go to the memorial service being hosted at Ittetsu’s aunt’s house.

As they stand at the door waiting for someone to greet them, Ittetsu clutches Keishin’s hand.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Ittetsu confesses, his voice small. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“I have a plastic bag in my pocket,” Keishin admits, letting Ittetsu’s fingers slip between his. “You’re an anxious puker. I wanted to be prepared.”

Ittetsu turns to look up at him with wide eyes. “Oh my god, you’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Keishin feels his face flush. “Is that...I mean, should I not have one? I didn’t think you’d want to puke at your dad’s memorial service in someone else’s garbage can.”

Ittetsu can’t answer the question because the door starts to open. Ittetsu drops Keishin’s hand quickly and he doesn’t let the pinprick of sadness last longer than a second inside of his chest. He looks instead at the young woman who answers the door.

She looks to be near Ittetsu’s age, her short black hair shiny in the same way as his. She has long bangs that are pulled back, framing her round face and the same brown eyes that Keishin has lost himself in. 

“Oh, Ittetsu!” Her lower lip puffs out and she bursts from the doorway, launching herself into Ittetsu’s arms and wrapping him in a tight hug. “Oh my god! You’re home!”

Keishin sees the look of confused terror in Ittetsu’s eyes. He realizes the already quiet services inside have grown even quieter, announcing their arrival to everyone. Keishin tugs at his collar, unsure of what to do since he is, by all accounts, an uninvited guest. 

Ittetsu seems to come back to himself, his hands coming up to the young woman’s torso to try and push her away. “Aiko, you’re choking me.”

“Oh shut up, I’m not letting go of you now that you’re here,” so-called Aiko says. She loosens her grip and turns to face Keishin, her eyes narrowed. “Who’s the stranger?”

Ittetsu chews his lip and Keishin sees the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. I want to say it. I want to be proud with you. 

Keishin beats him to the punch, bowing at the waist. “I’m his friend and coworker, Ukai Keishin. I came as a show of support and to pay my respects.”

When Keishin rises, he sees a twinkle in the woman’s eyes that makes him nervous. “Oh, his friend,” she purrs, her eyes flitting towards Ittetsu. “Ittetsu, you have a very handsome friend.”

Ittetsu flushes bright red. “Aiko!”

“I’m Ittetsu’s younger cousin, Hayashi Aiko,” she smiles, letting Ittetsu go but holding on to his arm. “It’s nice of you to come here with Ittetsu. Although I never expected him to have such a handsome friend. He was always very shy, you know.”

“Was he?” Keishin asks, amused. The Ittetsu he knows has never been shy. Earnest and a little bumbling, maybe, but never shy. “You’ll have to tell me more about how he used to be.”

Ittetsu looks like he’s ready to melt into the ground. Keishin wonders how long it’s been since he and Aiko have seen each other. The younger makes it seem like no time at all, but she also seems to hint at an understanding of who Keishin really is to her cousin. It makes him hopeful that he won’t be entirely unwelcome here. 

Aiko hums and gives Keishin a look that makes him feel like he’s still being sized up. She pats Ittetsu’s arm and brings her mouth close to his ear. He can’t catch what she whispers to him, but Ittetsu’s face flushes red and he shakes his head.

“All right,” Aiko says, more subdued now. “We should go inside so you can both pay your respects.”

Aiko takes the lead and takes Ittetsu inside of the house, leaving Keishin to trail in behind them. The house is small but nicely furnished. There are a few mourners here but not as many as Keishin may have expected. Older men in suits are gathered down the hall. Aiko guides them through the entrance hall past two young children tugging at their collars, uncomfortable in their formal wear in a way that Keishin can sympathize with. 

As they enter the main room, a small shrine dedicated to Ittetsu’s father is set up. Keishin is shocked by the man’s stern face in the photograph, his jaw cutting and his brow deep in a way that Ittetsu’s simply isn’t. Near the shrine is a small woman, her hair only just turning gray, and he sees his lover’s face reflected back at him. 

Ittetsu freezes up again as Aiko pulls him forward. “Auntie, Ittetsu is here.”

Ittetsu’s mother looks at her son with soft eyes, but she holds her hands tightly in front of her. “Oh, Ittetsu,” her voice is soft. “I...I didn’t expect to see you.”

Aiko rubs at Ittetsu’s arm again, glancing backwards towards Keishin. He sees a silent plea in her eyes and, even if it might be too bold, Keishin steps forward and holds Ittetsu by his other arm opposite of Aiko. 

The touch seems to startle Ittetsu out of his shock. He squeezes both Aiko and Keishin close to himself, bowing his head towards his mother. “I came because you asked, mother.”

Keishin cannot make sense of the moment between mother and son, the years of context lost on him, but he can feel the trembling tension in Ittetsu’s arm. He can see the wavering look in his mother’s eyes, the way her fingers tense and relax against the soft, wrinkled skin of her hands. There are others around him who must surely know how significant this moment is, the precipice of a reunion.

Ittetsu’s mother steps forward, her gait slow and steady. Keishin doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she is standing right in front of them. He breathes in deeply, the smell of lavender soap soothing despite the rapid beat of his own heart.

“You’re home,” Ittetsu’s mother reaches out carefully, like one might approach a skittish animal, and rests her fingers on her son’s cheek. “You don’t have to ask anymore. You’re welcome here.”

The tension in the room melts immediately. Some people turn away, knowing the intimate moment isn’t theirs to watch, but others keep looking. Keishin feels the hair at the back of his neck rise. He’s just as much on display here as Ittetsu. These people don’t know him, and they know he’s a stranger who came with Ittetsu, the black sheep of the family. Even if this reunion is going well, Keishin knows that this moment will be the topic of conversation over tea with aunties and in family group chats with cousins for days.

Ittetsu doesn’t cry but Keishin can see his lower lip wobbling. He swallows hard, reaching out and pulling his mother into a hug. Now Keishin looks away, his chest tight. This reunion could have been much worse, but it still feels like he’s an interloper.

“Come with me,” Ittetsu’s mother says, pulling back from the hug and taking her son’s hand. She begins to walk towards the shrine and Ittetsu looks back at him, eyes wide. 

Is this okay? Ittetsu’s face asks him. 

Keishin nods and reassures him with a smile. I’ll be right here.

Aiko hooks her arm around his suddenly, catching him off guard. The girl is petite but strong, and Keishin finds himself being easily dragged to a corner. 

“You know it was really nice of you to come with him,” Aiko says, letting him go and leaning against the wall. She looks him up and down, sizing him up, and Keishin has the sense he should be a little bit afraid of her. “Not many friends would make such a long journey.”

Keishin isn’t an idiot. He knows Aiko isn’t one either. Every time she says that word - friend - she implies she knows that he and Ittetsu are more than just that. What Keishin can’t exactly figure out is if she’s happy about it or if she’s against it.

“Ittetsu and I have worked closely together. We know each other well,” Keishin shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling useless with nothing else in his hands. A beer would be really nice right about now, but it’s probably not a good look for him to be drinking, even if there was alcohol being served.

“I’m sure,” Aiko smiles and lets her eyes drift over Keishin’s shoulder. Keishin turns around and sees Ittetsu there, standing with his mother at the shrine and accepting condolences. “You know, when he dated girls in high school, he picked girls who would make his parents happy.”

Keishin blinks, owlish at the realization that at some point Ittetsu even tried dating girls. Ittetsu had told him he’d always known he was gay. Keishin had assumed that meant he just hadn’t dated anyone at all. 

“They were kind of bitchy,” Aiko continues, “They knew they were pretty and they liked that he was easy to walk all over.” Aiko huffs a laugh, a memory playing out behind her eyes that Keishin hopes he one day hears the story for. “His dad was so happy and Ittetsu was just miserable.”

Keishin frowns, but he still can’t find the words to say. Ittetsu is so careful with the pieces of his past that he shares. Keishin had never felt it was important to push for more details. He was in love with the man Ittetsu is now, and he didn’t want to reopen the old wounds he knew were there. But Aiko is painting a picture of a version of Ittetsu that is so different, so lonely. Keishin admires the strength Ittetsu had to leave but wishes it didn’t have to be so fraught with pain.

Aiko seems lost in thought, tapping her lower lip with the tip of her finger. “He looks a lot happier now. I haven’t seen him in so long, but I remember him like that. Miserable and alone.” She glances at Keishin. “You’re the first friend he’s ever brought home.”

She says friend less in the way she’s said it before, not boyfriend but maybe actually just a friend. Ittetsu has never mentioned having friends from high school. A few long distance friends from college, maybe, but not from his hometown. Keishin looks back at Ittetsu again, sees his timid smile and his watery eyes and realizes that this place, these people, were all he had as a kid. And he had to leave it all behind. 

Keishin turns back to Aiko, leaning in and lowering his voice. “How big a deal is it really, that Ittetsu came back home for this?”

Aiko glances sideways around the room and takes him by the arm again, guiding him out into the hall where there are no lingering eyes or listening ears. “My mom would tell people Ittetsu died if they asked,” Aiko crosses her arms in front of her chest. “She was like Uncle Kenji that way. She never accepted what Ittetsu is.”

“Gay,” Keishin says, quietly but the word feels so loud regardless. “He’s gay.”

Aiko nods, chewing her lip. “I...I used to think he was sick. Like, it was just something you needed medicine to get over. After he left, I realized how wrong I was. But he blocked me ages ago, or maybe he just got a new phone. I never got to really apologize to him.”

“He didn’t seem upset to see you,” Keishin tries to reassure her, but Aiko shakes her head.

“Our family has said horrible things about him for years. I didn’t do much to stop them,” she confesses. “But Auntie Juri had a change of heart after Uncle Kenji got sick. I think...I think she couldn’t imagine herself dying if she didn’t reconcile with him.”

“Is she sick?” Keishin asks, because god it would be really fucked up if Ittetsu has to deal with losing both of his parents before really dealing with all the repressed emotions that have bubbled to the surface.

Aiko shakes her head. “No, but she tried to change Uncle Kenji’s mind before he died. But...” Aiko trails off but Keishin fills in the blank. It was Ittetsu’s mother who wanted him home, and that’s it.

“I appreciate you filling me in,” Keishin kicks at the floor, glancing down the hall where he sees an older business man typing away on his phone. “This seems like it’s kind of...loaded?”

Aiko laughs. “Oh, really fucking loaded. I took a shot before coming here.” She reaches down and pats her purse. “I packed a flask in case it got really bad.”

“I packed a puke bag for Ittetsu,” Keishin taps his pocket. “Although I don’t think we’re in the clear yet.”

“Puking is absolutely still on the table. Ittetsu threw up at a school recital once, his stage fright was so bad.” 

Keishin wants more of this, the memories of Ittetsu’s past that are fond and shared freely by people who love him. A beat passes and Aiko uncrosses her arms, reaching out and patting Keishin’s shoulder with an awkward affection. “I’m glad he has you. A real...friend?”

It’s a question this time, honest rather than teasing. Keishin nods. “Yeah, I’m really lucky to have him. Everyone in my life keeps telling me not to fuck it up so he doesn’t dump my ass.”

Aiko covers her mouth, a giggle too high and happy threatening to bubble out of her chest. She manages to swallow it, letting out a breath and leaning in close to Keishin. “I want you to make him happy. He deserves that. He never had that here.”

It feels like Aiko is offering her blessing, but Keishin is much more used to getting the shovel talk from his old girlfriends’ family. “I’d never want to see him be miserable. Or lonely. I’d honestly do anything to make sure he’s happy.”

Aiko smiles and squeezes his shoulder. “Then that’s enough.” She lets go then, tilting her head towards the main room again. “Come on. Let’s make sure your man doesn’t ruin the floors with his vomit.” 

The memorial service finishes after a few hours. Keishin had shuffled around awkwardly, not knowing what to say or where to stand or how to really do anything besides offer Ittetsu supportive smiles every time their eyes met. Ittetsu’s mother - Juri, Aiko had said earlier - barely seemed to acknowledge his existence. Keishin was convinced she was avoiding making eye contact entirely. Aiko assured him it would be fine once people cleared out. She’s probably nervous. She doesn’t want to make a bigger scene than she had to with Ittetsu. She’ll talk to you when things are more private. These are the assurances Aiko gave him as she slipped out the front door, the last one to do so. When the door shuts behind her, Keishin stands alone with Ittetsu and his mother, and she’s still not looking at him.

Juri smiles and begins walking towards the kitchen. “You’re hungry, Ittetsu. Let me get you some food.” 

“That’s okay, mother,” Ittetsu takes Keishin’s hand and walks them towards the kitchen. Keishin isn’t entirely sure he’s been invited to join him, but Ittetsu is gripping his hand so tightly that he isn’t going to go anywhere else. 

“Tea then,” she continues. Keishin hears her puttering, taking out porcelain cups, but Ittetsu stops them at the threshold of the kitchen. “Why don’t you stay the night? I made up the bed in your old room.”

“Could Keishin stay?”

The air thickens immediately with silence. Keishin swallows hard and squeezes back against Ittetsu’s hand. He’s positive he can feel Ittetsu’s heartbeat through the skin of his palm, or maybe it’s just the reverberation of his own.

“Keishin.” Juri Takeda says his name slowly, testing out the shape of it on her tongue. She’s holding a teapot in her hands when she finally looks at him, her eyes hard and her lips tight. Keishin shivers but he cannot let go of Ittetsu’s hand. Juri glances down quickly before looking back down at the teapot.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a friend,” she says, placating but not permissive. She starts following the teapot with water. “I only set up one bed, and I don’t have another one for guests.

“He could sleep with me,” Ittetsu’s voice is solid and Keishin feels pride swell in my chest. “In my room.”

“There’s only one bed,” Juri shakes her head. “That would not be...comfortable.”

“We share a bed at home,” Ittetsu replies. His mother seems to flinch. Home, Keishin knows, exists back where they live, split between their apartments and the life they’re building together. “We can share one here.”

“I don’t want you doing that,” Juri purses her lips and sets the teapot down, abandoning the process of making it. “It’s not right.”

“It’s who I am,” Ittetsu says, and now Keishin hears his voice waver. “I came home because I thought you knew that.”

The silence fills the air between them again, but the words unsaid ring loud and clear. Juri had called her son home, but she did not receive the version of her son she knew. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Juri tries again. Keishin feels bad for her, but she still cannot look him in the eye. She only looks at Ittetsu. “Please. This...your friend-”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Ittetsu shakes his head. “I love him. I love him as a man and he loves me as a man. Either we both stay here tonight, or we leave.”

Keishin blinks. He’s pretty sure he’s seen tv dramas that felt like this, ultimatums delivered to family members in the heat of the moment, but this feels uniquely terrifying. He feels like he should say something, anything really, but he knows this isn’t his moment. 

Juri stares at them, and their hands clasped together, and she shakes her said. “I’m sorry, Ittetsu. It’s too hard.”

Ittetsu doesn’t say anything at first. Keishin hears him swallow hard and watches him reach up to wipe at his eyes. Keishin turns him slightly, reaching up and taking his glasses off of his face. Ittetsu’s smile for him is watery, but when he turns back to his mother his expression is stone. “It was hard for me to come here. I thought maybe we could do the hard work together.”

Juri doesn’t say anything. She turns her back on them and sets the teapot on the stove. Ittetsu walks with Ittetsu out of the house and they make the journey towards their car. They had parked around the block, but Ittetsu doesn’t make it that far. As they reach the corner, the dark-haired man collapses into Keishin’s arms, his body racked with sobs that threaten to soak through the front of his shirt. 

“I know,” Keishin says, even though he doesn’t really. He doesn’t know this kind of pain, the knife of rejection twisted by the person who put it there, the family you were born loving who can’t love you the way you need them too. But he knows that Ittetsu needs him, needs his strength and his love. He knows he needs to make sure what he said to Aiko is true. 

“Let’s go home, Ittetsu,” Keishin whispers in his ear. He waits until Ittetsu nods before getting him into the car. Home, at least for tonight, is their hotel room. Home is wherever they are together, and Keishin wants to make sure that Ittetsu knows that he’ll always have a home with him.

They drive home in the morning, a trip that Keishin was hoping they wouldn’t have had to make so soon. Even if he hadn’t said it to him, Keishin knows Ittetsu was optimistic about this reunion with his mother. They could have been waking up in Ittetsu’s childhood bedroom. Ittetsu could have painted over old, painful memories with newer, happier ones. But now they’re driving back to their home, the door closed in both their faces after Ittetsu had gotten to see it cracked open again for the first time in years. 

They stop back at Keishin’s place first. It’s closer, if only slightly, but Ittetsu always told Keishin that he thinks his bed is more comfortable. He feels like Keishin is saying that just to be polite, because he’s pretty sure his mattress is older than he is, but the comfort doesn’t really matter when he has Ittetsu in his arms.

Ittetsu unlocks the door so Keishin can carry the bags inside. “Maybe we can order take out,” Keishin offers, because there’s nothing else he can really say to ease the ache in his boyfriend’s heart. 

“Maybe,” Ittetsu offers up with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s a brave face that Keishin wants to kiss away, but it doesn’t quite feel like the time. 

The bags are set down next to the door and both men take off their shoes. Keishin’s eyes keep careful watch on the dark-haired man, but his gaze is fixed to the floor. 

“I can go get the menus,” Ittetsu says, not looking up as he makes his way to the kitchen. Keishin is a grown man with cooking skills that don’t extend far beyond boiling water, but in moments like this he wishes he was a five-star chef. Ittetsu cooks for him when he’s had a bad day, when his grandfather’s health takes a turn or when he wonders again if he’s doing right by Karasuno’s boys and when he worries he’s not measuring up at the ripe old age of 26 years old. 

“You pick,” Keishin offers, because it’s all he can. His eyes catch on the small console table next to his door, a purchase Ittetsu inspired because where else would you keep your mail or put a dish for your keys? To think that Keishin had lived his life with those things scattered around his home with no rhyme or reason? Keishin looks at the small pile of letters he left there before his trip with Ittetsu and his eyes catch on a cream-colored envelope. He hadn’t seen it before, but it’s addressed to both him and Ittetsu.

Ittetsu comes back to his side, holding one menu in each hand and looking quite serious. “I’m stuck between the good udon place and the good ramen place.”

“They should just go into business together so we don’t have to keep ordering from two places,” Keishin muses, grabbing the envelope. He’s careful with the seal, picking at it until it comes loose enough for him to open without tearing. 

Ittetsu’s focus goes to the envelope. “Why did you get mail for me?”

“For the both of us,” Keishin corrects, pulling out a thick piece of cardstock. “It’s...a wedding invitation?” The card is cream with golden lettering that Keishin cannot imagine being able to write on his own. “It’s from Manabu and his...well, I guess his soon-to-be wife.”

“The Nekoma coach?” Ittetsu sets the menus down on the console table and takes the invitation carefully from Keishin’s hand. “And he invited us as a couple...”

“Kinda nice to be thought of that way,” Keishin hums, his hands coming up to rest on Ittetsu’s shoulders. He ducks his head down and presses his lips against the other man’s temple. “Could be fun getting dressed up, y’know.”

Ittetsu nods slowly but Keishin can tell his mind is elsewhere. He watches as the other man traces the careful letting on the card where their names are written side by side above a box where they can indicate if they will both be there at the wedding. 

“Are you okay?” Keishin asks. 

Ittetsu shakes his head. “I can’t believe he’s getting married, and he’s inviting us as...us.”

Keishin hums. He reaches around Ittetsu and wraps his arms around his midsection. “Does it bother you? I know we’re not exactly all the way out with our relationship, but-”

“It’s not that,” Ittetsu’s fingers grip the envelope so tightly that it crinkles. “He sees us as a couple, Keishin. He sees us.”

There’s a crack in Ittetsu’s voice that cracks something in Keishin’s chest too. The invitation falls to the wayside and Ittetsu’s face falls into his chest once more. He’s not crying the way he was last night, but there’s a heavy grief that Keishin needs the couch to bear the weight of. 

“C’mon,” Keishin guides them to his sofa where they collapse together in a heap of knees and elbows, Ittetsu on top of him and Keishin holding him close. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry, it’s not your fault,” Ittetsu says into his chest. “If she had never sent me that stupid letter I wouldn’t be upset like this.”

Keishin rubs Ittetsu’s back in the slow, firm circles he knows that soothe him. “She thought she was making amends,” Keishin offers lamely. “Although, she wasn’t really giving much to work with.”

Ittetsu lifts his head, resting his chin on Keishin’s sternum. “I wish it had been true,” Ittetsu’s lower lip wobbles slightly and he bites down on it to stop it. “That she could have accepted me as her gay son.”

He sighs and slumps back down, his cheek against the cotton of Keishin’s shirt. “Maybe it’s silly, but if we could get married, maybe she would change her mind. She couldn’t protest if we were something legitimate like that.”

Keishin hums softly, a clear question at the forefront of his mind but his stomach is in knots at the thought of asking it. It wouldn’t fix anything, would it? “Would you, if I asked?”

Ittetsu lifts his head. “Would I what?”

“Marry me?” Keishin intends for it to be a statement, but his tone curls up at the end in a Freudian slip of the question that’s been on his mind for months. He knows it’s not legal, he knows it’s fruitless, but the promise of a lifelong promise makes him feel like a hopeless romantic.

Ittetsu blinks, eyes watery. He shifts and props himself up on his elbows, framing Keishin’s torso. “Keishin, are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t,” Keishin shifts up onto his own elbows, dragging himself to sit and pulling Ittetsu into his arms. He reaches up and cups the other man’s face, attempts to ground himself in the warmth of his cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t-“

“Of course I do,” Ittetsu reaches up and pulls Keishin’s hands down into his own. “Of course I would marry you.”

The knot of anxiety in Keishin’s stomach wrenches itself free, soaring into his chest with a swell of love and pride and relief. There’s a logical part of him that knows these are just words shared between them. There’s no legal recourse for them to really get married, but the promise of it, the certainty of Ittetsu’s answer, is more than enough.

“You know we could get Sugawara to officiate,” Keishin squeezes Ittetsu’s hands, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. “I think he could do a pretty good job.” 

Ittetsu shakes his head, eyes wide. “Oh my god, we’re not having the boys at our wedding.”

“I think they’re coming whether we invite them or not,” Keishin replies. “Maybe they could be in the wedding party.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ittetsu laughs. His head falls forward and he rests his forehead in the crook of Keishin’s shoulder. 

“We could have the whole neighborhood club!” Keishin feels inspired now. He feels the barely there press of Ittetsu’s lips against his neck. “Maybe we could have them set and spike our rings down the aisle. It would definitely be memorable.”

“I think I’m regretting our marriage already.” The words are murmured against Keishin’s skin and he feels the warmth of them spread throughout his body.

A marriage proposal doesn’t fix everything, but when Ittetsu is close to him like this, warm in his arms, Keishin feels like it could. The fallout of Ittetsu’s falling out with his mother isn’t gone now that Keishin has proposed a hypothetical marriage. But Keishin doesn’t need a legally binding commitment to live by the kind of vows that husbands share. For better or worse, to love and cherish until death do them part. Keishin kisses the top of Ittetsu’s head and feels the other man sigh against him.

Maybe it doesn’t fix everything, but he thinks it could be a start.