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In the midst of the Tokyo crowd, a couple walked by, hand in hand.
Embraced in matching grey coats, their gloved hands were linked together as they walked past two college freshmen in front of a food stall. The promise of piping hot sweet potatoes was what made them stop in their tracks—looking for an aid to their cold, empty stomach.
The laughter emitted by the couple was distracting enough for Kuroo to turn his head at them, and right on that moment, he saw them share a kiss; light and easy, leaving both parties red on the nose.
Just like a reindeer , Kuroo thought. When he turned his head back, Daichi gave him a funny look.
“Did you just watch them kiss?”
A piece of sweet potato is shoved into his hand, a thin puff of smoke emanating from it. Kuroo emptily stared at it, not sure of what to say.
He finally looked up at Daichi; bundled up in a thick coat, a light green scarf wrapped around his neck. “Yeah,” he blurted out without thinking much, “If you’re kissing in public, I think you’re bound to get stared at.”
Daichi’s eyebrows knitted, but he didn’t add anything to the conversation. He silently motions Kuroo to get going.
December is always so harshly cold. After changing his jersey into something that could actually warm him up, Kuroo found Daichi standing nearby the gym exit door, idly scrolling on his phone.
“I hope I didn’t take too much of your time,” Kuroo started.
Upon hearing his voice, Daichi’s head perked up. He smiled at Kuroo who smiled back at him.
“Not really,” Daichi chuckled, “Cmon, it’s cold out here.”
Despite complaining about the cold, they both took the long route back to their place. There’s a certain charm of walking between the pure white snow spanning wide; or maybe it’s just Kuroo that never wanted to arrive too soon.
“Do you still think about it, Kuroo?” Daichi asked out of nowhere, “About the pro-athlete stuff.”
Kuroo didn’t immediately answer. He knew the exact reason behind Daichi’s question, but he stayed silent.
“There’s just something about you that feels different every time I meet you after practice, or after a match,” Daichi continued, “You carry a completely different air around you, it’s almost funny.”
Kuroo’s response was a chuckle. “That so?” He grinned at Daichi.
Daichi only nodded. Kuroo could tell that he was serious, and he let the grin fade from his face. He wanted to bring this conversation in a more relaxed light, but the seriousness of his friend made him hesitate.
“Sometimes,” Kuroo said, breaking the pregnant pause between them, “But, like… I don’t know. There’s still a lot I wanna do outside of volleyball, y’know? This and that. So many things to explore, too.”
There was a longer pause this time. Without realizing, they arrived at Daichi’s place. As Daichi dug through his pocket for his keys, he said, “You still play just as good as back then, if not better.” When he found his keys, he did not immediately come in, but instead clutched them in his palm. “You’d be a bright player. But you’re not wrong for wanting to explore your options, too.”
Kuroo laughed. “You’re making it even harder for me than it already is.”
Daichi’s smile reached the corner of his eyes. “We’re still juniors. You still have plenty of time,” his voice is friendly but firm, “Besides, you’re not in this by yourself. You have me.”
Despite the cold biting into his bones, Kuroo found warmth in Daichi’s genuine words. They’re reassuring. They made Kuroo feel comfortable.
“I know, Sawamura,” Kuroo smiled back at him, “I have you.”
Daichi offered him his fist, and Kuroo bumped it. It strangely reminded him of matching gray coats and gloved hands interlinking under the snow.
Daichi arrived in Kuroo’s apartment a few hours before midnight, and now they’re standing in the limited space of his balcony. Kuroo let the water boil in the kettle before, preparing something to drink once they’re ready to come inside again. Under the slowly falling snow, they wait for the first sunrise of the year.
Kuroo thought that they wouldn't take long. Just a few minutes to enjoy the sunrise, then they go inside for breakfast. Daichi buries his nose in the scarf messily wrapped around him, hands shoved into his coat pockets.
The sky is still dark, and the cold feels like it’s going to slowly kill him. Daichi, however, makes him want to savor this moment—and he feels warm in the chest, a complete opposite of how the wind makes him feel. That in itself is strange, yet he doesn’t put too much thought into it.
“Do you remember that time during freshman year when we were buying food, and you were staring at a random couple kissing?” Daichi blurts out of nowhere, “Sometimes when I see a couple kissing, my mind immediately goes back there.”
Kuroo eyes him with a small smile. “And why is that?”
“Not sure,” Daichi replies dryly, “It just pops in my head. Them, under the snow. And you’d be there, too.”
Maybe because you associate kissing under the snow with me, Kuroo thinks. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
He notices a thin, orange line starting to form on the horizon. Breathing out, a thin fog materializes as he exhales. The place is completely silent because he could hear Daichi sighing beside him. Kuroo refuses to look at him. It’s going to be awkward, despite them being friends. It would.
“Kuroo.”
Daichi’s voice is firm, yet Kuroo notices the hint of hesitation beneath it.
Daichi looks up towards the sky before looking back down, staring forward when the sun slowly appears in the horizon. Golden light starts to slowly encompass the city, and soon the darkness would be completely engulfed.
He takes his hand out of his pocket, reaches for Kuroo’s fingers before twining them together. It’s shy and very unlike him, but Kuroo welcomes him like it was natural. Kuroo looks at him a little confused as Daichi scoots closer to him, but he still chooses to stay silent.
Daichi turns to face him when their shoulders bump. Kuroo knows that look. He sees that kind of look often enough to know what it means.
Instinctively he leans closer and Daichi follows suit with something he makes as a deep sigh of relief—like a heavy burden is lifted off his shoulders. They lean closer and closer until their lips touch, and stay like that for a moment.
It feels warm after they part, from the kiss and the sunlight and the way their gloved hands are linked together. For a moment, they refuse to let their lingering gaze to part.
Daichi looks away bashfully, sniffing. His nose has turned into a shade of red that makes Kuroo laugh. Just like a reindeer.
There’s a muffled noise of his kettle going off, signaling that the water has boiled, but Kuroo thinks that it won’t hurt for them to stay here a minute longer.