Work Text:
Fingers tapping away on a laptop, writing the justification for his portfolio. Asahi’s headphones blur out the noise on the train he takes to get from one end of Tokyo to the other, but he can feel the endless murmur surrounding him, making it hard to focus. He frowns down at the screen, trying to figure out what to say; why should he, more so than his fellow graduates, be accepted into working at this grand designer studio?
He stares at the words he’d already written long before getting on this train, and decides to rewrite them again. That’d make this the ninth draft, but it still feels not-entirely right. It has to be perfect.
He swaps out a few more words for synonyms that feel more dignified, before his attention gets drawn away from the screen by a voice sounding over the speakers. The machinist’s words muddle with Asahi’s music, making it difficult to understand, but over the rim of his computer glasses Asahi can read along with the announcement; they’re approaching his final stop.
He quickly saves his drafted e-mail before shutting his laptop. He places his notebook, housing a big chunk of the physical sketches he just scanned for his portfolio, on top of the closed laptop. Finally, he places his computer glasses into their case and into his bag, because he still gets a little dizzy navigating with them on since he had the glasses’ strength adjusted a few weeks ago.
With his laptop and notebook tucked under his arm, he makes his way over to the exit. His empty hand turns up the volume of the music as he follows the crowd out of the train and off the platform.
The dense group of people fans out into different directions, but Asahi just keeps walking forward.
Just across the busy road that runs along the railway, there’s a tall brick building. There, on the highest floor, is a single-bedroom apartment. The place feels cheap, because it is, and it’s far from his childhood home, but Asahi considers himself lucky to have a place to call his own. Despite that, it doesn’t really feel like his home yet; despite living there since he graduated high school, Asahi’s been living between yet-to-be-unpacked boxes for four years. Too busy with his degree to unpack or clean.
Hopefully, after today, he’ll have time to do everything he’s been postponing; he’ll clean the dusty room from top to bottom, like he’d planned to from day one. And he’ll call his friends and family without busying himself with something else at the same time. And he’ll finally do something he enjoys doing, without it being for an assignment.
Asahi fishes his key out of his pocket, unlocking the door. He pushes, but it doesn’t budge.
And I’ll fix the door, he tells himself, before using his hip and shoulder to force it open despite the door’s loud complaints.
Once inside, his fingers drag the headphones off his head, letting them rest on his shoulders. Apart from the whisper of the music continuing in the speakers, it’s mostly silent. Okay, there’s constant drumming of the air-conditioning unit and the distant sound of trains pulling in and out of the station, but it’s better than the packed trains that bring Asahi to the nearest college that offers fashion and back.
This will be the final time on that train, hopefully. Now that his final classes have ended and he went to discuss his portfolio with his mentor one last time, he’s hoping to be able to walk to his new job.
He’ll have to get that job first, though.
Asahi glances down at the laptop under his arm and feels his breath catch in his throat. His mentor, who spent four years teaching Asahi the basics of apparel design, approved of Asahi’s portfolio. His designs are good, patterns approved, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it through his final year of college at all. His mentor’s job is finished now; sending a job application, that’s something for Asahi to do all on his own.
Asahi clears out his desk, tossing the empty cans of vending machine coffee and energy bar wrappings, to stall. When there’s nothing more left to clean, he sits down and opens his laptop.
The small apartment room is almost entirely lit by just the illuminated screen. Asahi puts on his computer glasses and tucks a tuft of hair behind the arm of his glasses.
His lips whisper the words he wrote and rewrote time and time again, before checking one last time if he actually attached his portfolio to the mail. Fingers move over the mousepad, dragging up to scroll through the pictures he added. Scans of graphite sketches, printed patterns and completely colored designs flash before his eyes.
It’s perfect. Asahi remembers the words his mentor used. A word Asahi’s never used to describe his own work; there’s always room to improve. But looking at this portfolio, he’s proud nonetheless.
“It’s good enough,” he mutters to himself, before closing the attached files and pressing “send”.
Asahi stares at the screen with labored breath until finally a notification pops up, letting him know his e-mail has been sent. He takes a long deep breath of the musty-cheap-apartment-smell, followed by a long shivering sigh.
There. That’s done.
He leans back in his chair, smiling carefully at the screen in front of him.
Time for the waiting game to begin.
≈≈≈
After a long night of little sleep, Asahi makes a to-do list. Everything he hasn’t had time for, he wants to do now that there are no college assignments demanding his attention.
One day flies by. And two more. The final few boxes get unpacked and every corner gets cleaned.
Asahi wakes up with aching shoulders from the amount of cleaning he’s done. He stares up at the ceiling; not a cobweb to be seen. He inhales the fresh smell and exhales long and calm.
He sits up, stretching out his arms and shoulders.
Just like he’s done every morning, he drags himself over to his laptop to see if he’s got any new e-mails. Usually, his inbox is filled with classmates asking for feedback, but now there’s been nothing new for days. No assignments, no feedback-no news from the company he sent his portfolio to.
The final thing he heard from the company was that they’d received his portfolio, among others, and they were going to look through them. He’d hear more sometime before the end of next week.
Another week. He should make the best of his time off.
The room gets a bit darker again as he closes his laptop. Through the dimly lit bedroom Asahi makes his way over to the fridge, where he’s written down everything he wanted to do during his time off.
He’s crossed off most things on his to-do list, apart from a couple of them.
The one up top is “call Noya”. He hasn’t gotten to it yet, because the ever-changing time zone difference is making it difficult to schedule anything. With his best friend jumping from country to country, it’s also hard to keep track of. In his trip around the world, that started not long after Nishinoya graduated, Nishinoya’s currently on his way to Europe. He’s taken a detour to see Norway though, where he’s spending a few weeks before carpooling to Germany, resulting in an eight-hour gap between them.
Asahi glances at the clock and sighs when he realises Nishinoya’s going to be asleep for at least five more hours before Asahi can text him.
He better make the best of that time.
With that thought, he changes out of his pajamas and he brushes all of the tangles out of his outgrown hair. His mom keeps telling him he has to cut it now that it’s well past his shoulders, but Asahi’s considering letting it grow even longer. He quickly pulls it back into a messy bun, before cracking an egg into a scorching pan. Loud sizzling fills the room as the egg goes from see-through to white. Meanwhile, he toasts some bread he found lying in his freezer and tops it with the egg.
As Asahi’s leaning up against the counter, eating his toast with egg, his eyes glance over at the list again. There’s one thing, beside calling Nishinoya, that he still has to do as well.
“Pick up an old hobby”, he wrote down last in squiggly letters. For the past four years, he hasn’t had any time for hobbies at all. He hadn’t expected this from a study regarding apparel design, but it takes up a lot of time and while he loves sketching out outfits, that’s not the hobby he’s referring to.
His gaze meets with one of the final items he unpacked yesterday, laying untouched in the corner of the room. The volleyball he’s had for ages, the colors all bleached and the surface all scratched up from using it so much.
A small smile tucks at the corner of Asahi’s mouth. With newfound enthusiasm for the day, he quickly finishes eating his breakfast and puts the dishes in the sink; he’ll clean them later.
He makes his way over to the other side of the small apartment, bending down to lift the ball. It feels familiar in his hands. His fingers wrap around it, made for him, like a custom-made coat.
He bounces the ball in his hands a couple of times, while remembering his days on Karasuno High. He smiles softly, closing his eyes. He can still remember the blazing heat of the competition hall’s lights on his skin, sweat dripping down his temple.
He twists the ball with his fingers.
He can feel it rushing through his body.
He opens his eyes, staring down at the worn volleyball. His smile disappears when he looks up, but instead of staring at his team’s backs, he’s staring out of the window with a view of the complex next door. All of the excitement drains out of his body, in an instant.
He frowns down at the volleyball, biting the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know why, but all of a sudden he doesn’t feel like picking this hobby back up at all.
He sighs, throwing the volleyball onto his bed. There’s this strange feeling in his chest he can’t quite name, but he doesn’t like it. He grabs his headphones from his desk, puts on some music and heads to the kitchen to clean his dishes. As the water’s getting warm, he can’t help but stare at the ball.
There’s a distance between him and the sport. A distance he hasn’t felt since-
He shakes his head and turns around; he doesn’t want to think about that time that he quit. Back then, he didn’t want anything to do with volleyball, or anyone on his old team. This is different.
He simply doesn’t feel like playing right now, that’s different.
He’ll just have a try at it again later.
But not today.
≈≈≈
“S-So wha-” The connection grows weak and the guy on Asahi’s laptop’s screen freezes. His words suddenly sound mechanical and inaudible.
Asahi’s fingers slide over the mousepad, hurrying down to the spot where his connection is shown; he has full wifi, so it has to be a connection problem on Nishinoya’s side. Asahi scoots his laptop forward, lying down on his stomach. His hand props up his head as he sighs and stares at the frozen screen. A sigh escapes his mouth when after a minute, the screen is still frozen.
It took almost one entire week for them to be able to schedule a proper video call, during Nishinoya’s travels from Norway to Germany, and just ten minutes into their call this happens.
Asahi taps the mousepad a few times, hoping it’ll refresh and reconnect.
First the sound comes back. The familiar voice asking, “Asahi? You there?” Next Nishinoya’s face returns, very close to the camera all of a sudden.
Asahi stifles a chuckle and responds, “Yep, I can hear you again. I think we lost connection.”
“Yeah, we headed through a tunnel. The connection’s always weak down there, but Saar says we won’t be going through any anytime soon, so we should be good!”
Saar is the woman Nishinoya’s currently traveling with. Apparently she and her three kids were heading back to the Netherlands after a camping trip near Denmark. She’s offered to drop Nishinoya off at one of the stops at the edge of Germany. They should get there later today.
That’s what Asahi understood from Nishinoya’s frantic texts he sent late last night, telling Asahi they could call while Nishinoya was traveling with them since they have wifi in the caravan.
“Okay!” Asahi returns the smile and nods. “What were you asking?”
“I asked what you’ve been up to,” Nishinoya repeats. His video moves, growing slightly pixelated, before showing him sitting on a mattress near the rear-view mirror. Knees tucked against his chest.
“Oh, not much-” That’s not a lie. Apart from checking his e-mail daily, Asahi hasn’t done much at all.
“You heard anything from- uh-” Nishinoya waves with his hand trying to come up with a word. “You know- the Tokyo fashion place?”
“Not yet.” He should be hearing from them today or tomorrow. He hopes they like his work and offer him to start working immediately, because he’s getting sick of doing nothing. With college’s pressure suddenly leaving his life, he’s just left feeling understimulated and unmotivated to do anything.
“Ah, you’ll hear from them soon!” Nishinoya gives him a thumbs up. “I’m sure you’ll get the job!”
Asahi smiles gently, before nodding and saying, “I hope so.”
Nishinoya’s eyes grow large and excited, all of a sudden. Asahi frowns, having no idea what’s got Nishinoya so enthusiastic all of a sudden. He follows Nishinoya’s gaze to something behind him.
There’s that old blue and yellow ball again.
It’s been lying there, untouched, for days. Collecting dust.
“Have you been playing?” Nishinoya asks, his voice pitching with excitement.
Asahi turns back to Nishinoya and shrugs. “I’ve been wanting to get back into it.” Disappointment settles in his stomach when he remembers the dread he felt after last touching that volleyball.
He felt like a completely different person.
He shrugs off the strange feeling, and smiles. “I could use some getting back in shape and all,” Asahi jokes, pinching the excess flaps on his upper arms where muscles have been replaced by fat.
“Same, dude!” Nishinoya pats his stomach, which from where Asahi’s sitting looks flat as ever. “They say walking a lot burns calories, but tasting all those traditional dishes is catching up to me.” As if a sudden different topic popping into his head, Nishinoya sits up straighter, mentioning a day at a beach a few months back. “I was playing beach volleyball with some locals and nearly got my ass beat! In volleyball!? Me!?” He chuckles a bit, but then his smile glazes over. “I miss it, sometimes.”
“Me too.” That’s something Asahi didn’t expect he’d ever say. Sure, he enjoyed volleyball for the most part, but he has always been less serious about it than most of his teammates. But he can’t help but agree on missing the times where his friends lived nearby and the thing he was most anxious about was whether his spike was going to be blocked or not.
Things are just different now.
“Yeah,” Asahi whispers, mostly to himself. It seems like that was a completely different person. Someone who still was capable of enjoying playing hobbies in his spare time. Someone who still had people to enjoy them with. Someone he’s outgrown by now.
“Damn, I feel so old saying that.” Nishinoya’s laughter breaks through Asahi’s dense thoughts.
“That’s because we are old!”
“No, you are old!” Nishinoya sounds offended when he tells Asahi, “I’m only twenty-two!”
“I’m just one year older than you,” Asahi reminds Nishinoya.
“Yeah, but you clearly have a much older soul!”
Asahi lets out a chuckle, both because of the way Nishinoya says it and also because it’s kind of true. Where Nishinoya’s younger soul decided to start backpacking after high school, seeing where the wind takes him, Asahi’s living the true adult experience of living low-budget while waiting for a job.
A distant voice cracking through the speakers interrupts Asahi’s thoughts. “Nishinoya,” a woman’s voice calls, completely botching the pronunciation of Nishinoya’s name. That must be Saar. “The kids and I are taking a pitstop and eating, do you also want to come?”
Nishinoya’s eyes quickly shoot at Asahi, when his stomach growls so loud even Asahi can hear it despite the bad audio quality. He sounds guilty when he admits he’s quite hungry; despite always making sure to devour all traditional dishes at his destinations, Nishinoya has admitted to not always having enough opportunities to eat when traveling between destinations.
“It’s okay.” Asahi shows Nishinoya a kind smile, despite feeling disappointed deep inside.
Nishinoya shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “You sure, we might not be able to call-”
“It is okay!” Asahi promises, louder this time. He doesn’t want to think about the amount of time that may or may not pass before he speaks to his best friend live again. “Go, eat!”
Nishinoya’s reaction is a bit delayed, but then he smiles and nods. “I’ll text you!”
“You better!” Asahi says, jokily but stern at the same time.
“I will! See ya!”
Asahi’s about to end the call, or wait until Nishinoya does so, when Nishinoya suddenly adds, “Oh, and let me know if you end up picking volleyball back up!”
“I will!” Asahi tells him, returning Nishinoya’s beaming smile. But after the call has ended, as Asahi stares at the black screen, he can’t help but let his smile fall. He sighs, turning to face the volleyball. His fingers squeeze it, shaking as Asahi tries to hold back tears.
I miss it, sometimes.
Asahi closes his eyes and nostalgia fills up his chest. It’s not a comfortable feeling though; it hurts.
He doesn’t want to feel this.
He doesn’t want to miss it.
He tosses the ball across the room with a strength he didn’t think he’d still have. A loud thud sounds as the ball bounces off the wall, followed by an angry neighbor shouting for him to be quiet.
Asahi lets out a low groan. Getting up from his bed to clean up the mess the volleyball made as it bounced around the room, before finally grabbing the ball off the floor. He stares at it, feeling tears sting in his eyes again. Maybe if he won’t pick that hobby back up again, it’s best to put the volleyball away for now. So in a box with memories, it disappears to the back of Asahi’s closet.
Because that’s just not his life anymore.
So, just like his opponents did to his spikes, it’s best he blocks the memories as long as they hurt.
≈≈≈
A pencil scratches the rough surface of watercolor paper.
It used to be a secretive activity; he always felt excitement rushing through his veins as he drew outfits he’d hope to one day wear. It wasn’t something a guy was supposed to love, he let himself believe, but now it’s becoming his profession.
Somehow, sketching in a one-bedroom apartment, after doing so on the train for college assignments, isn’t as thrilling as it used to be when he did it at high school. He still remembers the feeling of his skin flushing whenever someone tried to peek over into his sketchbook, scared of what his classmates and friends would think of him if they knew he liked drawing outfits more than sports.
He stares at the design he’s working on; a turtleneck, matched with button-up and flared pants.
It feels boring, nothing like Asahi’s usually vibrant ideas.
With a low displeased grumble, Asahi removes the piece of paper from the sketchbook and tosses it just like the past couple things he tried to draw.
He puts away the sketchbook and stores away the carefully chosen watercolors and sharpened pencils. He swaps them out for his laptop, clicking into his e-mail to see if there’s news.
Nishinoya was right; he did hear from the place he sent his portfolio to soon after their call.
Great news!
They’re considering him a good candidate, that’s what they sent him at the end of last week. He went there for a conversation three days ago and he thinks that went alright.
His brain still seems to replay the more uncomfortable moments, though, but Asahi likes to think they were few and far between.
With a handshake and a smile, they told him he’d be hearing from them before the end of the month. That’s not a long wait anymore, but when time creeps by this slowly even the hours between breakfast and lunch seem to last an eternity.
After verifying that they haven’t sent him any news earlier than promised, Asahi looks around the room. Maybe he’s just not feeling like drawing today, and that’s okay.
But what is he feeling like?
Who knows, by the end of this month, he might hear that he can work there. Hopefully as many hours as possible, because he would really like to move out of this tiny apartment since the walls are starting to close in on him. If that’s the case, and he’ll be able to start working full-time, he should be enjoying his final completely careless time off. Right?
But it’s like his brain won’t allow him to just relax.
Maybe he should just get out, that might be a nice change of pace.
Asahi gets up, putting on his headphones and some fun music to get his mood up. As he passes the mirror, he quickly makes sure he looks presentable, before jogging down the stairs.
The weather is great, perfect for a summer stroll through the park. Schools all have summer breaks, so the nearby park is littered with kids and teenagers. Asahi weaves between a few kids trying to fly a kite, before finding himself a spot on the grass between a couple of teenagers enjoying a picnic.
With the sun on his face, he admits he feels a bit better than when he was inside his apartment. One of his favorite songs comes up and he closes his eyes. See, you can enjoy this! He tells himself.
A sudden force butting him in the head. It’s a strangely familiar feeling.
His eyes shoot open and he sees a young teen running in his direction, his mouth moving. Asahi drags his headphones off his head to hear the kid.
“I’m sorry, mister!” the teen says, coming to a stop and giving Asahi a quick bow.
Asahi frowns at the kid, not in a mad way, just confused. That is, until he follows the teen’s gaze to a yellow and blue volleyball now lying right beside Asahi.
Asahi takes a hold of the ball and bounces it in his hand. “This yours?” he asks the kid.
“Yep!” The teen smiles wide, nodding over to a group of teens of various ages in the distance. “We’re playing some volleyball and I-” He scratches the back of his head. “I guess I hit it too hard.”
Asahi smiles gently, remembering how often that happened to him. The amount of bruises Daichi, Nishinoya and Tanaka got from trying to receive and block his spikes were insane. He glances from the ball to the kid, and holds out the ball. The teen’s about to take the ball and walk off again, when Asahi decides to give the advice that pops into his head. “It’s not about hitting the ball as hard as you can, you know?” The kid frowns lightly, so Asahi clarifies, “It’s more about the angle at which you hit it and knowing when not to spike, but rather pass. Takes some practice, though!”
The teen’s eyes light up. “You play?”
“Played,” Asahi corrects him. “I was the ace of my high school team.”
“Really? That is my plan too, once I start at high school!” The kid hesitates, before asking, “You want to join us for a game?” The enthusiasm in his smile reminds Asahi of a certain underclassman.
Part of him wants to join in, but then again, he told himself that time is behind him now.
He shakes his head carefully and declines politely. “Nah, my prime days are behind me.” He gives the kid a wink and sternly tells him to keep on practicing those spikes.
“Yes, mister!” The kid bows briefly again, before turning around to join his friends again.
Asahi smiles as he watches them pass the ball between the six of them. Some of them have raw talent even Asahi can spot from this distance, just like he used to have according to his teammates.
He wonders if that talent ever left him, or if he’s just spoiling it pursuing different dreams.
He shakes away the thought and puts on his headphones again. He finds a different favorite song and puts it on before he heads back to his apartment. The volume has to be quite loud to blur out the thought that just popped into his head. He doesn’t want to think that way; he loves his line of work.
He’s just in a weird mindspace right now, that’ll all get better once he gets the job and starts building a new routine. That’s it, this strange emptiness in him, it’ll all solve itself when that happens.
≈≈≈
A call on a slow Monday morning, followed by about twenty texts saying, “I got the job!” in various different ways. That’s what Asahi’s week began like.
The company’s boss called, letting him know he was extremely impressed with Asahi’s work. Another interview and a meet-up with the team followed. Everything that happened next flew by in a haze.
As Asahi’s sitting here, behind a desk with a tilted table, drawing pad hooked up to a monitor and all the supplies he might need during his job. It’s amazing, making him feel right at home.
Wanting to show himself from his best side, he started putting in the work; all of his time, even his spare time, went to showing his boss and the team they made the right choice in choosing him.
From what he remembers from the adrenaline-high first month or so, he hasn’t been feeling as discouraged. Rather, he’s motivated to work day and night, like he used to do back in college.
The soft pencil jotting down notes causes a rush of excitement in Asahi’s chest, even though it’s just the research he’s working on; not a single design has been drawn this entire week.
“Azumane,” a low voice calls from across the room.
Asahi looks up from his notes; research on recent trends within sports clothing. His boss is standing in the doorway of the office where Asahi and a couple of colleagues are all working in semi-silence.
“Yes, sir!” Asahi responds, getting up from his chair.
“Would you join me in my office for a minute?”
“Uh, yeah.” Asahi gets out from behind his desk, following his boss down the hall to the small office where his first interview took place. His boss takes a seat at the desk, while Asahi stands right in front of the door he just closed behind himself.
“So, Azumane,” his boss begins. “How have you been liking the first month here?”
Asahi automatically smiles. “I like it a lot, sir.” He nods, agreeing with his own words.
“Good.” His boss returns a polite smile. “You’ve been delivering good work, young man.”
The compliment causes Asahi’s hands to break out in sweat. He wipes them on his pants and mutters, “Thank you, sir.”
“How are things going with separating work and free time?” his boss continues, his expression significantly more serious all of a sudden. When Asahi frowns at him, asking what he means, his boss clarifies, “Well, after work and on the weekends, are you able to relax a bit?”
“Y-Yeah, sure.” The voice in the back of Asahi’s mind curses at him for lying to his new boss.
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound convinced, probably because Asahi’s a lousy liar. “I heard from Aimi that you haven’t joined them when they go out on the weekend.”
Aimi’s the apparel designer leading the commission they’re currently working on. Four times in a row, she’s asked Asahi to join the team when they go out to drink on Friday evening.
Was I supposed to? Asahi clears his throat and smiles sheepishly. “Oh, yeah. No, I don’t drink, sir.”
“You don’t have to drink with them.” He shakes his head. “I’m just reminding you, it’s okay to have fun after hours, from time to time. Get to know the team you work with, outside of work.”
Asahi feels his cheeks flush, suddenly realising that’s why his dad would always be out late on Fridays. He gives his boss a polite bow, his long hair hiding the blush, and thanks him for the advice.
The expression on his boss’s face softens, when Asahi straightens his back again. Asahi’s about to return the smile and continue his work, but his boss stops him.
“Just don’t overwork yourself.” His voice is stern. “It would be a shame to lose a talent like you.”
Another brief bow of the head. Asahi closes the door behind himself and lets out a deep sigh.
His stomach feels tight, uncomfortable, as he tries to regain composure. He walks down the hall, back to the office, where he silently slips back into his chair.
Now what was I doing? He thinks to himself, blankly staring at the materials laid out in front of him.
The sound of plastic wheels on a carpeted floor comes closer, followed by a cheery female voice asking, “What was that about?”
“Nothing.” Asahi shakes his head.
Aimi, a woman in her early thirties, raises an eyebrow at him skeptically.
“The boss thinks I don’t relax enough,” he says, waving with his hand like it’s nothing.
“There might be some truth in that,” Aimi says, matter-of-factly. Before nodding to the notes scattered around Asahi’s desk. “How’s the research coming along on your end?”
“I’m not finished yet, but I’m getting there,” he promises, assuming she’s asking because it’s taking too long. “I can leave my notes on your desk by the end of the day.”
“That’d be perfect.” Aimi smiles wide, before scooting her chair over to the next person she’s planning to speak to.
Asahi watches her for a second, as she starts conversing with the colleague wondering if they do have their part of the project done already, before returning his attention to the monitor.
The words are blurry as the conversation plays in his mind.
Am I really that bad at having time off?
Asahi shakes his head to himself; these people don’t know how well he’s used to working hard for what he wants. Working is like relaxing to him.
Nonetheless, there’s no denying the bags Asahi notices under his eyes when he meets his reflection’s eyes in the monitor. He takes off his glasses, blurring the person looking back at him.
He sighs and tries to get his mind back to what’s really important; finish his research.
Concentrating doesn’t come easy, though, after that conversation. He just doesn’t know what to make of it; it’s okay to work in his spare time if he enjoys his work, right? Or can he just not busy himself with fashion if he has to relax?
For the first time since he started the job, the end of the workday arrives before Asahi has ticked off everything he was planning to do today. Part of him wants to stay and work overtime, when a hand suddenly taps on his shoulder. He jolts at the sudden touch, immediately spinning around in his chair.
“Shit, sorry!” Aimi pulls back her hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you!”
Asahi’s cheeks are burning from embarrassment. “I-It’s okay! Really.”
Aimi’s eyebrows perk up, before she straightens her back and says, “Me and the others are heading out into the city.” She nods to the office door where practically the entire team is gathered. “You want to join us this week?”
Asahi gives it some thought; he really despises the taste of alcohol, but if this is just part of working an office job, he’ll have to adjust to it one way or another. He inhales deeply, before nodding. “Sure.”
Surprise flashes across Aimi’s face, making it clear she wasn’t expecting Asahi to come along. She quickly hides the surprise with a gentle smile. “Okay, grab your coat.”
Asahi glances over at his unfinished work.
“You can leave it, finish it on Monday.” Her voice is about as serious as their boss’s, but more kind and sincere, when she adds, “Stop putting so much pressure on yourself, okay?”
Asahi lets the work sink in, tells that stupid voice in his head to listen to his colleagues. “Okay.”
≈≈≈
A pounding headache makes it impossible to concentrate on anything, let alone some leftover work.
The soft bubbling of water starting to boil reaches Asahi’s ears. He pours it into a cup along with a tea bag and some sugar. As he sips his hot tea, he stares around the room.
His vision’s still blurred, his head still pounding after yesterday evening. Maybe Asahi shouldn’t have drunk that third shot after all. He remembers Tanaka used to say his sister usually stopped at five to avoid a hangover, so Asahi assumed he’d be well below the usual limit.
Apparently he’s more of a lightweight than Tanaka’s older sister, despite being taller and broader, because when he went to the bathroom after his third drink the grout seemed to wave and wiggle.
He’s not quite sure how he got home, nor does he have a clue what he told his colleagues later that evening. Honestly, he’s not even sure whether he stopped drinking after that third shot.
All he remembers is going to the bathroom at the bar, his own voice ringing as he told his colleagues he should be headed home. Next thing he knew, he was lying in bed, completely drenched.
That was a draining shower ago.
His stomach doesn’t feel up for breakfast, so he guesses tea will have to do.
Asahi stares at his bed, wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the blankets.
I can’t. A voice in his head reminds him. I didn’t finish this week’s work yet.
Asahi exhales, long and deep, before grabbing his laptop. But before he can even log into the workspace, a splitting headache shoots through him. From behind his glasses, his fingers rub his eyes.
Asahi stares at the screen, blankly.
A quick glance over his shoulder has him longing for his bed again. It’s like his bed’s telling him the same as his boss and Aimi did: “You can relax from time to time.” It coaxes him into closing the laptop. “Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
Asahi places his glasses onto the laptop and tells himself he’ll finish his work on Monday. It’s the weekend. He can lie down and nap for a bit, right?
His hands reach for his headphones, fingers scrolling to his playlist to find a calming song. To the slow beat of the music, he drags himself over to his bed and drops down.
Even before he can crawl underneath the still-slightly-damp blankets, his eyelids get heavy.
I guess they were right. Asahi admits to himself as he allows himself to drift off to sleep. I need this.
≈≈≈
And thus began the weekly routine Asahi tried to keep to; work during work time, spend the evening actually making dinner rather than warming up 7-Eleven meals and relaxing with a movie until he dozed off. On Fridays he would join the team he worked with at one of the nearby bars and get just slightly tipsy enough to get a little looser while still being able to remember everything the next day.
On the weekends, he usually tries to get up early to get some work done before lunch. That’s because after work, he has a strict rule with himself; he will do something fun.
Figuring out the definition of “something fun” is still a work in progress. Some days it’s watching a movie, other times it’s calling Nishinoya or visiting his parents. A few weekends back he even reconnected with Daichi and Sugawara over text. And when he really doesn’t know what to do, he’ll just go for a walk in the park or listen to music in between naps.
Stop putting pressure on yourself. He tries to take those words to heart, but even he admits some days are easier than others. Some days, the time still creeps by so slowly, but sometimes he wishes he had another day of weekend, because he had so much fun that week.
But with his first vacation coming up in a week, Asahi can’t help but dread it for some reason. He’s built a pretty good routine with himself, one he’s able to keep up and enjoy. But last time he suddenly had all the time in the world he was moody and demotivated most of the time.
He lets out a sigh, staring at the to-do list he’s trying to compile for himself.
He’s got the usual things on there; deep clean the house and maybe browse for a bigger place to rent. Some other small things too, but nothing too big. By the end of the week, he’s going to have to add more to that list, if he wants to have a productive and fun vacation.
“What’s that?” A voice calls from behind.
Asahi can feel Kato’s eyes on his notebook before he can close it. He turns to Kato, a guy in his late twenties, who Asahi became a bit closer with while out drinking.
“Things I want to do during my break,” Asahi tells Kato, tipping the notebook so Kato can read along.
“Sounds like you’ll be busy,” he says, nodding to the list.
“Yeah.” Not busy enough.
Asahi decides to quickly return the question, knowing Kato’s break is also coming up soon. “Do you have any plans, yet?”
“Sure!” Kato says, smiling ear to ear. “My partner and I are visiting his family in the USA.”
Asahi returns the smile and responds that that sounds like fun.
“Sure is!” He nods, before asking, “Do you not, you know, go away during breaks?”
Asahi shrugs.
“You should give it a try,” Kato tells him, leaning back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head. “Time flies when you’re having fun,” he says in a surprisingly convincing American accent.
Asahi gives it some thought, before nodding. “Who knows, I might.” He tries to shrug it off at first, telling himself he doesn’t have the money to do all that traveling. But then he realises he’s not in college anymore; other than paying the low rent and cheap meals he makes himself, he’s not spent much of his earned money.
Maybe Kato’s right, maybe it’s okay to treat himself to a little time away from home.
Asahi takes out his phone and opens the chat he has with Nishinoya. He’s surprised to see it’s almost been a week since they last texted. His fingers press in the characters, messaging him, “Hey, where are you planning to spend the next two weeks?”
≈≈≈
Planes are somehow less loud and crowded than Tokyo trains, yet the soft murmur of people conversing with one another still reaches Asahi’s ears despite the music playing. It’s a long flight from Japan to Palma de Mallorca. So after eating multiple meals and sleeping on the plane, Asahi’s back is starting to kill him. Why can’t his best friend have chosen a place nearer to Japan?
From the window, Asahi can see the island where Nishinoya and Asahi will be spending a couple of days, before crossing over to Italy by boat for the rest of their time together.
An announcement over the speakers informs everyone on the plane that they’ll be landing soon, in multiple different languages. There’s a flutter in Asahi’s stomach, but he’s not quite sure whether that’s because the plane is lowering or because he’s so excited to see his best friend again.
It’s been quite some time since he saw Nishinoya in person; ever since he left to see the world about three years ago, not long after graduating high school, Asahi has only spoken to him over the phone.
On shaky legs, Asahi follows the crowd from his seat, down the steps and into the airport.
Asahi picks up his luggage a bit further down the large hall; one single large backpack.
Nishinoya made it a point to make sure Asahi knew he shouldn’t expect a fancy hotel with a spot to put down his stuff, as Nishinoya more often than not spends his evenings at strangers’ homes or even napping under the stars in a sleeping bag.
“One backpack is more than enough, trust me!” he texted Asahi and despite his doubts Asahi decided to listen. It pained him to leave most of his planned outfits at home, eventually settling on the simple outfit he’s currently wearing, plus an outfit he designed and produced in college that he can wear if they do go somewhere fancy. He did stuff the backpack completely, making it heavy on his shoulders.
Asahi squints down at his phone, trying to read the instructions Nishinoya sent him.
On top of being filled with misuse of characters, Asahi’s vision is seemingly getting worse without glasses since he wears them so much lately. He knew it was a bad idea, leaving his computer glasses at home just so he could fit a pair of sunglasses in the already stuffed bag instead.
He squints a bit more, muttering the directions to himself. After wandering around the busy airport for a couple of minutes, he finally finds the exit Nishinoya was referring to in his texts. The large doors slide open, letting the blazing sun hit Asahi. The world seems light and bright, and it takes some adjusting of his eyes, before Asahi sees someone waving in the distance.
He waves back, taking off his headphones to hear someone calling his name. It sounds different, without the tinny sound caused by Asahi’s laptop’s speakers.
“Asahi!” Nishinoya runs in his direction, arms waving excitedly. There’s no delayed reaction, at least, not because of bad connection. The only delayed reaction is Asahi’s, not bracing himself before Nishinoya launches himself up against Asahi.
“Whoa!” Asahi nearly tips over, already weighed down by the heavy backpack. He flings his arms to regain balance, before hugging back his short friend.
Nishinoya releases himself from Asahi’s grip, visibly vibrating with excitement as he steps back and asks, “How was your trip?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before saying, “How did you grow more!?”
Asahi looks down at Nishinoya, who’s still quite a bit shorter than him. The cap he’s wearing to protect himself from the sun makes him look even smaller.
Asahi decides not to mention Nishinoya’s height, since he doesn’t seem like he got a growth spurt.
“The flight was good. Long.” Asahi stretches his back, it audibly cracks in a few places. “Have you just gotten here as well?” Asahi asks, changing the subject to Nishinoya.
“No, I spent the night here.”
Asahi looks around, hesitating before asking, “At the airport?”
Nishinoya stifles a laugh. “No, dude. In Mallorca.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “One of the locals let me spend the night in their home-away-from-home near the beach,” Nishinoya explains. “Kind guy. Says we can spend tonight there as well, so I guess we’re spending our day at the beach?”
“Sounds good,” Asahi says. He wasn’t expecting much else, seeing as they’re on an island; there’s a beach basically everywhere around them.
By the time Asahi finally sets foot on the beach he’s worn out. His shoulders are aching from carrying his heavy backpack and he’s out of breath due to the heat. He didn’t think it did, but apparently having a more sedentary lifestyle has taken a toll on how fit he is.
Nishinoya, on the other hand, doesn’t appear bothered at all by the blazing sun and long walk. But looking at his tan, he’s been in enough warm countries to have gotten used to that. On top of that, he often walks long distances between carpooling along with people.
Nishinoya happily leads the way, chattering about everything he’s been doing, barely leaving himself time to breathe in between sentences. He hops down the steps and jogs through the sand to a row of tiny houses right along the edge of the beach. “This is it!” Nishinoya makes a large gesture.
“This?” Asahi asks, frowning at one of the small houses. If he can even call it a house, that is. While Nishinoya opens the door and lets himself in without a problem, Asahi has to duck down to fit through the door. The ceiling inside is low and Asahi suddenly realises his apartment isn’t all that small after all. The tiny house has a small kitchen, a bathroom and a living room, all just barely large enough to fit the both of them. On both sides of the house are raised beds, above a room, resulting in the ceiling above the bathroom and living room area being even lower, making it impossible for Asahi to stand up straight.
“It’s- uh-” Asahi tries to find the word, while also trying not to knock anything over with his backpack as he spins around to get a better look. “-cozy?”
“Right!” Nishinoya sounds genuinely excited. “And that for free!”
Asahi guesses he can’t complain, considering this local is indeed allowing complete strangers to use their vacation home for the night free of charge. The plane tickets were expensive enough as it is.
“So, what do you want to do?” Nishinoya kicks off his shoes and plops himself down on the couch. “We could stream a movie, go swim or walk along the beach, or-” His voice trails off. “You call it!”
“Honestly?” Asahi scratches the back of his head. His hair feels greasy and his neck is sweaty underneath it. “I would love to take a shower, before anything else.”
≈≈≈
Grains of sand tickle between Asahi’s clean toes and he immediately realises he’s going to have to shower again after spending some time on the beach. Luckily they don’t spend much time on the dry parts of the beach, quickly heading down to the areas where the water has dampened the sand.
Asahi looks down, making sure he doesn’t step on any sharp stones, crabs or shells, while listening to Nishinoya yap. Despite having lost complete track of what Nishinoya’s story began as and where it’s heading, he can’t help but smile as he attempts to keep up. He’s really missed Nishinoya’s yapping.
“So, there I was. You know, I had no clue where to go and a definite storm on the way,” Nishinoya tells Asahi, his hands moving viciously as he speaks. “That’s when I saw a-” He gasps. “Look at that!” Nishinoya says mid-sentence, pointing at a group of at least ten people passing a ball between one another. The net in between and the type of ball they’re using makes it clear what they’re playing. Nishinoya runs ahead, only glancing behind to shout he wants to take a closer look.
Asahi follows Nishinoya, but his feet keep sinking into the sand, making it impossible to keep up.
Once he reaches the side of the makeshift beach-volleyball court, Nishinoya’s already standing right beside one of the guys that was just playing. Asahi watches Nishinoya bend through his knees and stretch out his arms, coming up back slightly again like he’d do during a receive.
The guy follows his example, a serious look on his face.
“Gracias!” the guy says.
Nishinoya shoots the guy a wide smile, suddenly holding up his finger. His free hand takes out his phone and he spends a few seconds typing, before tipping the phone over to the guy.
Asahi frowns. From this distance it’d be impossible to read what’s on the phone, especially with the sun reflecting in the screen. But he does hear the guy asking the other people on the court something in what Asahi assumes to be Spanish, before nodding to Nishinoya.
The cheeriest, excited “Yes!” Asahi has heard in ages escapes from Nishinoya’s mouth. His eyes meet Asahi’s and he waves him over, shouting, “We can play along if we want!”
He turns to the guy he just asked if they could join, explaining in broken English that Asahi was the ace. The guy nods, impressed, shooting Asahi a toothy smile. This immediately causes all of the blood in Asahi’s body to travel to his cheeks. He lowers his head, hiding behind his hair.
“Come on, Asahi!” Nishinoya shouts, already having found his position on the court. “Don’t be shy!”
Asahi exhales, slowly. He could decline politely; Nishinoya would understand. Right?
Despite that feeling he locked away bubbling up in his stomach, Asahi feels himself nod. He takes a step forward and whispers to himself, “It’s just a friendly game of beach volleyball.” He blows out a quick breath. “No pressure.” His fingers glide through his hair, sliding the hair tie he’s wearing around his wrist around his long hair to keep it out of his face, creating a simple, loose bun.
“Yes!” Nishinoya shouts again, jumping in place when Asahi walks to the other side of the field to join the five strangers. They greet him with smiles, before showing him where he can stand.
The guy Nishinoya was just talking to grabs the volleyball from the floor and dusts off the sand.
Asahi shifts uncomfortably from one leg to another, trying to get a feel for the sand.
What if he can’t do it anymore?
He focuses on his breathing, like he used to do before matches. But that doesn’t keep his breath from still catching in his throat when the first ball is served.
Squinting against the sun, Asahi can only watch as the volleyball flies over to their side of the court. It’s fast, high. And flying straight at him.
He plants his feet in the sand and bends his knees. The ball starts to fall and he immediately realises he misjudged the distance between him and the ball. Tumbling forward awkwardly, with his arm stretched out completely, he can just knock the volleyball back into the air.
Damn, I’m rusty. Asahi thinks to himself as he watches the ball just barely make it over the net. With how slow it falls, it’s a miracle that the girl up front manages to keep it in play.
Nishinoya, as quick and safe as ever, comes in from behind, scooping under the messily passed ball to play it to the guy shouting in Spanish. Asahi assumes he’s asking for a set to spike.
The volleyball bounces around on Asahi’s side of the court, before one of the girls shouts, “Hey, Ace!”
Asahi sees her taking a position he’s seen many times before. With the sun lighting her up from behind, only a silhouette to Asahi, she looks just like Sugawara readying himself to set a ball.
Muscle memory takes over.
Asahi shoots forward, his eyes pinned on the ball as it lands in her hands. She sends it up again and all Asahi has to do is spike it. Easy. He’s done that so many times before. He takes one more step forwards and bends his knees to propel himself into the air.
But instead of jumping and being able to hit the ball, Asahi’s foot slides away in the shifting grains of sand. His legs move out from underneath him and he flops down into the sand, just barely able to avoid a complete faceplant.
Cackling laughter sounds from the other side of the net. Asahi looks up, giving Nishinoya a scowl, before also bursting into laughter as well. Is this what he’s been so scared of?
Nishinoya’s face is red from laughing, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he wheezes. “Dude! What the hell was that!?”
He gets up and knocks the sand out of his hair. He gives Nishinoya a confident smile and shouts back, “Oh, don’t count yourself a winner!” He places his hand on his hip. “I’m just getting started.”
“Yeah?” Nishinoya wipes away a tear. “Sure!”
A chuckle shakes in Asahi’s chest. Shaking his head at himself, he makes his way back to his spot in the back. As he waits for the ball to be served again, a quick thought shoots through his head; I should do this more often. He makes a mental note to add both playing volleyball and joining Nishinoya in his travels on his list of fun things to do during his time off.
At this rate, he’s going to get great at relaxing.
The End.