Chapter Text
The cherry blossoms bloom heavy with the scent of spring and your heart chases after it.
They wilt just as quickly as they bloom, tucking away their petals for the year after.
But your heart never blossoms again, still tucked away in a fragile winter.
You remember it as clear as yesterday. The feeling of first love. Filled with stolen glances, knots in stomachs, and daydreams of shy hands lacing together for the first time. Initially, you thought it was just a simple crush. He was striking, taller than the rest of the boys in class, and commanding in a way that made your pulse quicken and cheeks flush. It would wash away in time you thought, he would be like all the others--but it didn't. He stained your heart and like dyed white cloth, it'll never be the same again.
One Volleyball game was all it took. It was free you convinced yourself. Plus, you had nothing to do for the evening. It was to support your school, your classmates, and your friends wanted to go too.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
You wanted to watch him on the court. Perhaps it would be boring and you'll move on to someone else to fill the rest of your mundane schooldays. You willed it to be boring, wished it so. These emotions unfurling in you, taking seed in your heart and growing into something much much more, it scared you. Of course, it was anything but. You left the game with your heart thudding out your chest and the way he looked on the court replaying in your mind for days at end.
Before you knew it, you were attending every game, following their journey through the qualifiers. It was maddening. You didn't want to, you wanted to move on, this would never work out, but your feet had a will of its own and you would find yourself once again on the bleachers, eyes glued to him, mesmerized.
In time you accepted these new feelings, nurturing them. You found that you really love how driven he is for his craft. He's steadfast in his goals, unwavering in his beliefs. He was more gentle than he lets on, if feeding the stray cats nesting at the back of the school was anything to go by. You found yourself dreaming about how his hands would feel against yours, what your firsts together would look like, what your name would sound like on his lips.
And so, with the adrenaline that comes with first loves, you decided you would confess.
Graduation. The last day together of high school. With the cherry blossoms blooming high and pink in the sky you penned a letter brimming with your unspokens. Along with it, some cookies you had baked. Matcha cookies with a red bean filling. Not too sweet, you figured it would be more within his preferences.
You'll place it on his desk while the rest of the class was out celebrating. Or perhaps that was too open, maybe his locker? As you ponder you glance out the windows, catching a glimpse of Ushijima in the courtyard, taking graduation pictures with the rest of the volleyball club. The evening sun lit his face aglow, catching the strands of hair with a fiery red.
Beautiful...
Suddenly, your heart fills with ache and you pull back the letter like you've been burned, clutching it close to your chest. You felt vulnerable, like you've been bared open for all to see. These feelings were precious to you, you wanted to protect them, cradle them in your hands away from the harshness of reality. Your lips crease into a thin line and unfell tears bead the edges of your eyes as you decide to toss the cookies and letter into the trash.
Yes, you'll shield these feelings, tuck them away into the far crevices of your heart, only allowing them to resurface on lonely winter days.
It would've never worked out anyway.
.
.
.
.
As you step out, leaving your first love behind for reminiscing in your thirties, a strong gust of wind blows into the classroom. It sends the letter you had meant for the trash onto the floor beside it instead, the lovely shade of pink bright against the wooden floors. Bright enough to catch the eye of Satori Tendo.
For Ushijima Wakatoshi.
With a curious hum he places it on Ushijima's desk, holding it down with a spare notebook of his. He takes a look around the classroom for any clues, but only found abandoned cookies and the lingering scent of cherry blossoms.
Matcha cookies, with a red bean filling. Rather unique for confession cookies.
Perhaps something will come of this...