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The whole team hadn't said a word since the match ended. The Zero locker room had been an echo of clothes and running water for half an hour. Hakuryuu hadn't bothered changing. He'd simply taken a seat on the bench, and waited patiently until Shuu joined him.
Still, no words pass between them. They're both exhausted, but Shuu can tell that being together is the best form of recovery they could have. Shuu watches as the team file out, one by one. Hebino raises a hand in farewell, the last to leave; Shuu smiles at him, but his mind is elsewhere. It doesn't reach his eyes.
Hakuryuu doesn't move. His eyes are fixed on something far away. Everything is quiet for a little longer.
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Shuu turns to Hakuryuu, ready to speak, but he stops.
Hakuryuu's head is turned back against the wall, his mouth slightly open as he breathes in, level and silent. His face is still riddled with narrow streams of water from where he had poured a bottle over himself at the end of the game, his uniform clinging damply to his neck and shoulders. Pale skin stands out brightly in the dim light of the locker room, contrasting where Hakuryuu's hands lay open at his sides. His knuckles rest on the wooden bench.
But his expression - Shuu tries to remember the last time he'd felt as peaceful as Hakuryuu looked in this moment. He'd fallen asleep, just sitting there.
Shuu can feel Hakuryuu's existence interlocking neatly with his, like puzzle pieces that had been unlinked for too long. Their knees were touching. A sudden wave of calm overcomes him, his eyes instantly losing focus. Idly, he reaches out to link his hand with Hakuryuu's limp one, his tanned fingers slipping between Hakuryuu's with a light grip.
Sleep was an old concept to Shuu. It seemed like something that had been beyond his reach for many years. Yet he feels his eyes fluttering closed, and allows his mind to slow. How strange, he thinks, maybe this was all I needed all along.
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Hakuryuu wakes suddenly, and realises he's alone.
It's dark outside. Hakuryuu can see stars sparkling through the narrow locker room windows. The more he watches them, the more he feels like something is missing. It's as if he'd dropped something important. His hand twitches, and he blinks, startled out of a trance he didn't know he'd been in.
His fingers are curled around something invisible, or something gone.