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Daichi does not accept gifts for Valentine’s Day.
This has been a truth for as long as the third years have been at Karasuno. When Asahi and Suga explain this to Yachi and Hinata on the morning of the fourteenth, they both gawk in disbelief.
“But I got senpai these cookies!” Hinata protests.
“I made homemade chocolates for him,” Yachi admits quietly, face all red.
Asahi says sheepishly, “I’m sure he’d be flattered by both of those things. But you can see why he doesn’t accept anyone’s gifts, right? It’s scary to get offerings from people you barely know. It’d be unfair to accept some and not others. Right, Suga?”
Suga smiles. This is such a uniquely Daichi problem that it’s deeply ridiculous to think about. Who if not their captain—oh, captain—would have to make up silly rules like this? All because every February, half the school and then some suddenly gets over-eager in piling gifts onto Daichi that he really did not ask for.
The rule was quickly set in stone after their first year at Karasuno, when — Suga supposes — all the girls in their class realized at once that Daichi was very athletic and mature for his age, and crowded around him to woo the man who would indubitably make all their father’s favorite son-in-law.
Daichi became so flustered that he rejected them all in one fell swoop, and that was that. He remains staunch on the matter to this very day, and both Suga and Asahi have learned not to push Daichi on these weird little rules he makes up in his head, because most of the time he is right and they do end up making everyone’s lives easier. So, there. No V-Day’s gifts from anyone.
“Really saves us the trouble,” Suga quips and elbows Asahi in the rib, “Right?” For a moment, he truly believes the words as he says them. More like, saves him the trouble of embarrassing himself. Except, well.
He super doesn’t think about the envelope stuffed into the side pocket of his school bag, focusing instead on herding the first years to class: the bell has just rung and Suga has math first period.
.
Sometime before second period, Suga hears a rumor that a boy has given another boy Valentine's Day chocolates. It's not unlikely, this type of thing has happened before. It's just the social circus around it that makes Suga's skin crawl.
There was a time, maybe in grade school, when Suga would've said nothing, thought nothing of it, maybe even proclaimed with defiance that there is nothing wrong with two friends exchanging gift chocolates on Valentine's Day. But Suga knows better now, has learned the rules of this weird dance, and knows that there is nothing more lethal for a boy to do in a small rural town in Miyagi.
Suga pulls out the gift in the restroom after third period. He stares down at it, turns it over in his hands. A small booklet with notes Suga took all throughout third year: notes on the team, on their different playstyles, on Daichi, his captaining. Suga is proud of it. It's a tiny vessel encompassing the whole of their journey, as a team, as friends, especially Daichi and he. This book is intrinsically a friendship charm, but it is also so much more.
Suga almost throws it away. When he passes a trash can on the way to homeroom, he almost throws it away.
Because there is really no reason for Suga to give this to Daichi. Boys don't give boys chocolates on Valentine's Day.
Though, that's not true. It hasn't escaped Suga how every year there are one or two brave kids, usually first-years, who nervously offer Daichi a protein bar, or an electrolyte drink, waving it off, "Oh, Coach wanted me to remind you; I read somewhere this would help with muscle growth; I just had one extra." Suga doesn't know about those boys, of course, but in the two seconds of gazes connecting while they quickly retreat, he can sense a sort of mutual understanding, two ships passing each other in the night: Oh, it's not just me. No one talks about it, but it is known that this type of thing happens.
And it's not like there aren't boys, who — oh, Suga is seething with rage just thinking about it: How a package showed up by Daichi's desk this morning, sent from Tokyo by Kuroo Tetsurou, a gift from one captain to another — and, oh, how funny that it would arrive on Valentine's Day, sports tape from a fancy store that you can't get here in Miyagi, top-of-the-line, just for Daichi, and isn't it just such a good present to give between chums, all cat's grins and plausible deniability, city-slicker brazenness that just wouldn’t fly here at Karasuno. Suga digs his nails into the inside of his palms and takes very deep breaths.
So he doesn't throw the notebook away, but he tugs it tightly back into his school bag, right next to the carefully hidden envelope.
Daichi looks uncomfortable all day, and Suga doesn't want to contribute to that. When you're a model student like Daichi, popular and steadfast, it would only appear logical to get this much attention. Suga doesn't want to make it worse than it needs to be.
.
“Give it up, girl!"
Suga hears the giggles before he sees them: the gaggle of third-year girls approaching their usual spot by the window, Michimiya front and center with a bashful grin, bite of the lip, and all her girlfriends surrounding her, teasing and cheering.
Daichi is standing with the blades of his arms propped on the window sill, his most habitual position, looking out at the leaves rustling in the trees, watchful for the early onset of spring blossoms.
Suga frowns. He should say something, he thinks, shooting Asahi a quick look, who seems just as lost. Michimiya knows Daichi's whole deal, but she seems determined. Determined by the fact that this is their third year, that they all graduate soon, that Daichi is now an adult and so mature after everything they've all been through the past few months.
The group reaches the top of the stairs and Daichi finally turns, eyebrows curling slowly as his brain works to catch up.
"Here," Michimiya says, holding the chocolates out in front of her like a shield. "I got you these."
The hallway falls quiet, all eyes on the two of them. Daichi stares down at the chocolates. Suga sees the muscle work on his jaw as he tries to think of something to say to let her down gently.
"Michimiya, I—"
"Daichi," Suga interupts. He stares straight at the side of Daichi's head, ignores the look of betrayal Michimiya is pinning on him. "We should leave for Japanese class now. The test, we have to be there on time. The bell rings in five."
Daichi's gaze snaps up, the pass connects. “Right,” he says. “Let’s go.” He grabs Suga by the arm and maneuvers them down the stairs, ignoring the daggers the girls are staring into their backs.
I’m sorry, Michimiya, Suga thinks quietly. You know the game.
.
He should be paid overtime, Suga thinks wryly, by some point in the afternoon. All day he's spent running interferance, gently redirecting the flow of people approaching Daichi, diffusing with jokes, with mellow half-smiles, combination bodyguard and court jester.
He's still chewing on his meat bun, in the backyard next to the gym, when Nishinoya says something that makes him nearly choke.
"Way you're hovering around him you'd almost think you're the jealous girlfriend."
Suga spits out his bite and heaves a breath, glaring at Noya. Tanaka laughs and slaps him on the back. "Come on, Suga-san, we're just kidding."
"We know you're doing an important job," Noya nods placatingly.
Suga frowns, shoots Asahi a look, who has still said nothing, then rights himself. "It's my duty as the vice, you know."
Tanaka and Noya nod along appreciatively, but it's not enough to throw them off the scent. "What about you, though?" Tanaka says thoughtfully, in the way he gets when he's catching onto the idea of girls-talk. "Have you got your sights set on anyone? I've never seen you with a girl."
Suga's mind goes zero to a hundred as the synapses light up to come up with a good answer. "Shimizu-chan," he says flatly. Out of Noya's and Tanaka's field of vision, Asahi cocks an eyebrow.
"No way!" Tanaka immediately proclaims. "I'll fight you! I'll fight you for her hand in marriage!"
Suga smiles smugly, now that the ground has been gained. "Oh yeah? Did she warm your hands for you when you get nervous at the tournament? Huh?"
"Oh, Sugawara-senpai, I'll kill you—"
The cover story clicks in place, and Suga directs the topic of conversation away from his very real and raw feelings, easily falling into the social game again. Panem et circenses. If the smoke screen stays up, he can stay out of trouble.
.
When he passes the locker room before his afternoon class, he briefly thinks of putting the notebook away. He originally got it from a small shelf next to his locker: It hadn't been written in, but the design on the front — the small volleyball next to the school mascot — had caught his eye. It's like the notebook knew what it wanted to be before he even found it.
He sets foot in the room, takes a look around. Classes aren't out yet for the day, so no one's here. Yacchan might come by later, but for a minute, it's just him leaning against the door and realigning himself. It's the wise decision to just get rid of it. Giving it to Daichi would be self-sabotage. He's being mature about this. This way, the notes can just be useful without any of those loaded emotions attached to them.
Suga has already taken it out of his bag, holding it in trembling hand, when the doorknob turns. Quickly shoving it back into the bag, he turns, just in time to obstruct the view from Daichi as he enters.
Daichi quirks an eyebrow. "Hi?"
"Hey," Suga exhales with a chuckle. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know," Daichi says, ears going red. He scratches the back of his neck. "I needed a breather from people hounding me."
Suga nods agreeably. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this."
"Whatever," Daichi half-shrugs. "Thank you for pulling my ass out of trouble all day."
"Whatever," Suga echoes. They stand smiling subduedly at each other for a moment, before Suga notices Daichi's eye wander to his bag. "Actually, I gotta go. Geography in a few minutes."
"Right," Daichi says, gaze still on where Suga has his hand stuffed in his school bag, clutching the notebook inside, but Daichi can't see. "See you after class?"
Suga turns and grins. "You bet." He’s almost out the door when Daichi speaks again.
“Suga?”
He spins back around. Daichi is looking dejectedly at him, but eyes yet sharp in the way he pins opponents from across the court. “What?”
“Just. You’ve been quiet today.”
Suga’s blood freezes. “Have I?” He strains a smile. “Just tired, I guess.”
The half-shrug again. “You don’t have to do this for me, you know.”
Another mellow grin on Suga’s face, another smokescreen. “I want to. Always your second-in-command, right?”
“Right. Hey, Suga.”
“Yeah?”
Daichi flexes his hands. He stares at a spot above Suga’s ear when he speaks. “Let’s… walk home together after class?”
Suga swallows. “We always walk home together, Daichi.”
“Right.” Daichi’s gaze drops.
“I have to go.”
“Yeah.”
.
“You’ve been busy today.”
They’re on the stairs right between their last classes, and Suga stops in his step when he hears Asahi behind him. He laughs lightly, when he sees Asahi’s face all scrunched-up with worry. “You could say that.”
Asahi shifts his weight on his feet, bites his lip. “You don’t always have to brace the impact for other people. You know that, right?”
“It’s fine,” Suga says, and his smile is real.
“Okay,” says Asahi, still with some hesitance there. “Just thought I’d say it.” He peels off towards his classroom, leaving Suga on the stairs by himself. The strap of his bag feels a little heavier on his shoulder suddenly.
.
All the way down the hallway Suga hears the echoing of sobs. He follows the quiet sound of a girl crying, until he rounds the corner and finds a second year slid down against the wall, holding a box of chocolates. She’s absolutely reduced to tears, clearly having psyched herself up over this, maybe for weeks even. Suga crouches down next to her and puts a soothing hand to a shoulder.
“Sawamura-san, yeah?”
The girl nods with her tear-streaked cheeks.
Suga hums softly and reaches to pull a tissue from his pocket. “Here.” She sniffles into it and Suga stays with her a little while longer. “He doesn’t mean it personally, really,” he says softly. “He’s like that with everyone. It’s not because of you.”
The girl’s red-rimmed eyes rest on Suga a moment too long. “I thought I could be the exception, you know,” she says. Suga nods timidly. He does know.
Eventually, the girl wipes her cheeks and forces a small smile. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “I guess I couldn’t help it. Got my hopes up.”
Suga smiles back, ignores the way his chest clenches.
.
The school grows calm in the quiet afterhours, softened by the orange glow of the setting sun. By the time Suga packs up, it's already way past five. Without volleyball practice, he just heads straight home, making no stops on the way.
He's almost made it to the entrance when he spots Daichi leaning on the end of the hallway, bag slung heavy around his shoulder, exhausted from the day. He turns when he hears footsteps and then heaves himself up.
"I thought you'd already left," he says, and there's a hesitance to it.
"Still here," says Suga curtly. He doesn't have the energy for this. He walks straight past Daichi, who follows after a moment's falter, then falls into step next to him.
"I'm glad today is over," he says, by way of saying anything at all. When Suga doesn't respond, he adds, "Thanks again. All that attention is really more than I can stand to carry."
"Must be nice," it slips out before Suga can really stop himself.
Daichi stops dead in his tracks. Suga almost doesn't turn, but spins around slowly, looking back at his best friend. Daichi doesn't look hurt so much as puzzled, eyebrow furrowed as he gives Suga that analytical glare again. Finally, he says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put all that on you."
"You haven't," Suga says truthfully. "I'm the one who decided to help you out." Over and over again. It's always Suga right in position for Daichi to fall back on, in those hidden moments when no one is supposed to see the captain slip.
"Right." Daichi swallows. Suga can tell by the way his jaw works that he wants to say something more, but Suga can't bear to pull it out of him. Not after all that.
He turns and starts towards the exit once more. Daichi follows and they walk in relative silence, all the way down the hill and into town, to where their paths almost diverge at the end of the road.
All the way, Suga feels the presence of the notebook, even though it's really quite light, where it is pressed into the side pocket of his bag. This is the last chance to give it in a way that is anyhow meaningful, and the window is slowly closing. He could keep it, Suga thinks wearily — just give it to Daichi some other time. "It's just a small keepsake," he can already hear himself saying. A team document. "This might help if you keep playing in university."
He bites down on his teeth to keep tears from coming. Stupid Suga and his stupid feelings.
"Suga. Koushi."
Suga turns. Daichi has stopped walking again, and he's staring at Suga with a look of determination, like he's worked up to this. "What do you have there?"
Suga makes an irritated noise. "Where?"
"In your bag. Your hand has been lingering on it all day. It's like you're two seconds away from grabbing something, but then you never do."
There's a quiet cruelty to it, the way Daichi can always just read Suga like an open book. While Suga watches everyone watching Daichi, it is often Daichi who ends up watching him. It's unbearable.
"Nothing," Suga lies readily. He gives Daichi a meaningful look, one last out. This is the Pandora's box, and if you really want to open it, you better be fucking sure.
But Daichi, silly stubborn Daichi, barrels straight on, not a moment's flinch of hesitation. "You wouldn't act that way if it was really nothing. If it's important to you, tell me. If it's embarrassing, doubly so." A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth.
"You're incorrigible," Suga says as he begins slowly unzipping his school bag, never taking his eyes off Daichi. He reaches inside, hand trembling as it closes around the hardcover of the notebook. The solidity of it is all he has to hold onto right now. "There is a world in which I give you this and it means nothing," he says, an explanation, perhaps a proposal. He can’t ruin their friendship like this. After everything, the thought that this is the beginning of the end for them horrifies Suga.
Daichi's eyebrow quirks and he crosses his arms. "If it means nothing I don't want it."
"You don't accept gifts for Valentine's Day," Suga reminds him cruelly, as if the penny still hasn't dropped for Daichi.
"I'm also an opportunistic asshole," Daichi says simply.
Suga cracks up at that. This is true. Still, his hand trembles and won't move from the inside of his bag.
Daichi takes two steps forward, until he's suddenly very close, a ruler's length of distance between their chests. "I get to decide when I break my own rules, Suga."
With great effort, Suga pulls out the notebook — and the envelope, which has slipped back under the hardcover. There is no way for Daichi to see both together and misinterpret what any of this means. He holds them out to Daichi in defeat, closes his eyes and labors his breathing.
Daichi takes the notebook, opens it to the first page and spots the letter. Suga hears the rustling as Daichi takes it out, opens the envelope. There's only the chirping of spring birds up ahead, the rattling of the leaves and the sounds of a train in the distance as Daichi reads.
After an eternity, he folds up the letter. Suga opens his eyes.
Daichi's ears have gone beet-red and he stares at Suga with a sort of awe, like he's only now really seeing him properly for the very first time.
"I'm sorry," Suga says on instinct. There's nothing else he can say that could justify any of this.
"Well, don't be," Daichi says, and now Suga can see that the hand holding the letter is trembling, too. He begins flipping through the notebook, stares down at the pages with his mouth half-open. "This is brilliant," he mutters under his breath. "I mean, really now."
Suga lets out a huff of disbelief. "So you like it, then."
Daichi's eyes snap up. "Like."
Suga shrugs self-consciously. "I can take it back if it's not up to par."
“You’re insane.”
“I know.” Suga motions at the letter. “In case it wasn’t entirely obvious.”
Daichi is smiling now, and he takes another step toward Suga, until they’re very close. “Actually I need to confiscate this. There’s gonna be unseemly rumors if people find out the vice captain gave his captain such a gift for Valentine’s Day.”
Suga’s heart drops, and he flinches away from Daichi.
“Oh god, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t say that—”
“Suga,” Daichi starts, and immediately closes the distance again, wrapping him in his arms and holding him tight. “Suga, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Suga gnashes his teeth, willing his eyes to stop burning. “It’s really so easy for you to say, the perfect handsome student athlete with his swarm of fangirls following him around—”
“Suga, listen to me.” Daichi’s face is gravely serious, level with Suga’s as he speaks. He still hasn’t let go of him. “I didn’t want people giving me gifts because I didn’t want people talking. I was deadly afraid that there’d be rumors.”
Suga frowns. Slowly, he says, “Why? No one would mind if you dated, say, Michimiya, or…”
“But that’s just it,” Daichi says, and now there’s a guilty little smile playing on his lips. “It’s not just Michimiya. I see all these beautiful girls, and then I see all these guys, and it’s all just…” The blush has spread from his ears to his cheeks, and he looks on so bashfully that it suddenly shifts into place for Suga.
“You weren’t just embarrassed when the girls were giving you things. It’s everyone.”
“Well,” says Daichi torturedly, “How do you think it would look if I got a little too eager accepting gifts from all the cute second-year girls and the cute second-year guys? What about my cute third-year vice captain?”
Suga’s face is burning. “Ya mean that?”
“Yeah,” Daichi scoffs, “Very cute.”
“Well, we can’t—” Suga suddenly becomes very aware of the way they’re still standing together, and he hates the way he flinches away from Daichi like he’s been burned.
Daichi immediately understands, though, and throws a glance up the road, to see if there’s anyone near. “We can’t… I mean. We need to be careful. But as long as no one sees us, I really don’t mind if…” He puts the envelope and letter back into the notebook, puts them away diligently, adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder and then offers out an empty hand to Suga.
Suga stares down at it. “You really don’t mind, huh?”
“You’re killing me, Suga,” Daichi agonizes. “I would love to. Better?”
“Much,” says Suga with a grin. He links his fingers between Daichi’s, feels the vibrant buzz up his spine at the gentle intimacy of the palms touching. “This is gonna be our little secret, isn’t it?”
Daichi smiles, but there’s some pain behind it. “Yeah. Beats carrying it by yourself, though. I’m glad you gave me the notebook. Thank you.”
Suga stares at his feet, the grin pulling all the way to his ears. “That makes me really happy.”
They continue their walk home that way, hand in hand, quietly delighting in the conversation, the casual touch. No one sees them as they walk off, and Suga is sure that there won’t be rumors tomorrow morning. All he’s certain of is that — in the cool evening sun of spring — he wants stupid days like these to never end.