Archive of Our Own

“I’m impressed, you even did a pre-trip walkaround before getting in,” Kita comments, as he clicks his seatbelt into place and looks over to where Aran was settling into the driver’s seat, hands nervously flexing against the wheel. He scans over the dashboard, before turning the key and letting the engine ignite. The radio is turned off, all the lights are turned on. Anything less made him nervous - music was a distraction. He needed to be at the top of his game right now. 

“Well… important cargo this time,” Aran says, even though the real answer was that this was his third time ever driving alone. Once coming back from the test, once going to school that morning - and now, driving Kita home. 

“Are you implying that you only adhere to safety regulations when you think other people may be judging you?” 

“Uh…”

“That’s no good, Aran,” Kita replies, looking out the window. “If you don’t have good safety practices consistently, you may as well not have them. The only way to reduce the possibility of a disaster or tragedy is to prepare for it each day, not just on the days it would be the worst for them to occur. Because while I concur that a passenger is more important than, say, a pizza box, your life is always included in the occasion. And a tragedy of one person is no less a tragedy than one of two.” 

“Uhm…”

Aran turns around in the seat, to slowly back out of the school parking lot. 

“And although I do appreciate you insinuating you care for my physical safety, I do not appreciate the insinuation that you do not think of yourself the same way. If you really cared about my health and happiness, you’d be aware that your loss of life in a vehicular incident would be no less devastating than finding myself in one.”

All things considered, Kita’s consistent, even-toned droning about… whatever it is Aran had done wrong did soothe the parts of his brain worried about focusing while listening to music. Clearly, he was able to multitask like that. And having Kita’s voice beside him was pleasant. If only it weren’t criticizing him.

“I promise,” Aran says, once he hears Kita take a breath and is able to slip in and take over the conversation. “I will adhere to all road safety measures.”

“You promise?” 

“I promise.”

“A man is only as good as his word, Aran.”

“Sometimes when you say my name, I’m worried I’m about to be killed.” 

This makes Kita’s lips twitch, a telling sign of what, on anyone else, would be laughter. But Kita’s somewhat robotic disposition kept it little more than a twitch. 

“I have no intentions,” he says. “Your driving habits, however, may do the job for me.” 

“I am driving perfectly fine,” Aran replies. “The woman who did my test even said so herself.”

“Perfectly fine is… fine,” Kita concedes. “I suppose expecting you to be anything above fine at this point would be hypocritical of myself. In any other sport or skill, adequate performance scales for experience. While being perfectly fine might sound insulting if you were to, say, use that phrasing to describe your volleyball performance, driving isn’t something you’ve have enough time to become proficient in. How long to do you estimate it will take for you to become not fine, but good?”

“How long do I… estimate… Kita, I don’t even know how I’d begin to estimate that.” 

“Well, I suppose it would be a relatively simple mathematical formula, combining your average rate of learning and growth to the expected hours you’ll spend driving a week, or a month… Though of course you’d need a benchmark of what qualifies as good versus fine. All of these numbers I don’t particularly have on hand, so we’ll need to substitute them for something… If we define the rate of your growth as the amount of time you had from picking up the driver’s manual to passing the test as the amount of time you need to go up one level of skill, then the amount of time to go from fine to good would be the same duration. So… what would that be, one year, two? Oh, but that would assume that driving has a perfectly linear learning curve.” 

Aran is focused mostly on getting onto the short highway that heads towards Kita’s farm. 

“Do you think driving has a linear learning curve?” 

It takes Aran a second to realize he’s being addressed, mostly caught up in a relentless series of shoulder checks as he doesn’t quite trust his own eyes, before he settles the car into the flow of traffic on the highway. 

“Aran,” Kita prompts, and he spares a quick glance over to him before focusing back on the road. “Do you think driving has a linear learning curve?”

“What?”

“You weren’t even listening to me!” Kita says, immediately. 

“You talk so much,” Aran says. “If I listened to everything you said, I would never have my own thoughts.” 

Kita scoffs, crossing his arms and sitting back against the seat of the car. “Fine, message received.” 

“I didn’t mean it like…” Aran huffs, carefully repositioning his hands on the wheel. “I just mean that you say a lot of things, and I don’t always manage to keep up with you. I’m not as smart as you are! Also, I’m trying to drive, I have to stay focused on that.” 

He mentally crosses his fingers, hoping the ‘trying not to crash’ excuse would get him out of trouble with his friend.

“Why are you crossing your fingers?” Kita asks, and Aran realizes there’s a much stronger association between his brain and body than he had thought. 

“Ah… just… scratching,” he says, dragging the nail of his middle finger across the other. 

Kita huffs again, before saying: “Well… What do you want to talk about, then?” 

“What do I want to talk about?” 

“Yeah, what do you want to talk about? If I’m just an annoying person, you lead the conversation.” 

“So you are mad at me.” 

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you kinda did,” Aran says. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I did not. I merely repeated what you had said.”

“That was nothing close to what I had said, that was an inference.”

“Was it a correct inference?” 

“You should know better than to rely on inferences for your data,” Aran replies, trying to remember which exit ramp he needed to take. He was pretty sure it was… the next one… but Kita’s farm was pretty far away, and maybe he needed to take the second exit to get on that stupid in backroad… “Assumptions are not reliable, even when made by smart people.” 

Kita is silent for a bit, before saying: “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” 

“I am?” 

“Also you missed the exit.”

“Shit.” 

Kita is redirected from his grudge, sitting forward now to explain how to circle back around on the backroads, once they get off the next exit. It’s a little bit of a longer of a drive now, but to be honest, Aran really didn’t mind. First because it gave him more time to practice this new skill of his, and secondly… 

“Did you ever solve the zebra puzzle?” 

“Like horses?” 

“I said zebra.” 

“No, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” 

Kita hums. “It’s a pretty famous logic puzzle, with a bunch of if this, than that, statements you need to unravel to figure out who owns the zebra. So it’s like… the guy from spain owns a dog, and the guy who lives in a blue house owns… and on and on, and you have to put every nationality, animal, and… like other stuff into the houses to find out who owns the zebra. It was extra credit on the back of a test I took in middle school.” 

“Oh… uh… no, I guess I never solved it,” Aran replies. “I’ve never even seen it. Did you solve it?” 

“Not on the test. But I worked on it later. I think that kind of logic puzzle is really interesting. It’s a better kind of puzzle than ones that rely solely on mathematical equations, or wordplay. Nothing in the zebra puzzle, or puzzles like it, are intended to trick you or misdirect you, and you don’t need any special education or skill. You can just apply your language ability and go through each rule, and slowly figure out how the puzzle is solved.” 

“That does sound like your kind of puzzle,” Aran says. “Something that you can brute force, rather than try and outsmart.” 

This makes Kita raise his eye, looking over at him. “I am not a brute force kind of person.”

“You kinda are…”

“No, I am not - why are you making so many assertions on my character today?” Kita says, a little more firmly. 

“Because you don’t seem to know yourself!” Aran laughs. “Kita, if you had the choice between counting to ten thousand, or writing an equation to count to ten thousand, you’d already be counting before the question finished.” 

Kita thinks about this for a moment, before closing his mouth and seeming more thoughtful. After a second, when Aran is almost sure he’s managed to win this conversation, Kita says:

“What would an equation to count to ten thousand even look like?” 

“I don’t know.”

“So of course I’d pick counting normally, it would probably take me six hours just to figure out the potential theory of an equation like that. And I don’t see how that has anything to do with the zebra puzzle. It’s an entirely different task, logic and counting are not the same. And besides-” and here Aran realizes he might have offended his friend again. “-just because I prefer the more direct route to certain outcomes doesn’t mean I brute force things. Consistency, reliability and practice can get you anywhere. And if that’s brute force, then we’re all brutes.”

“Whatever you say.” 

Kita almost rolls his eyes, but the action makes him realize that Aran is pulling up to the bottom of the driveway to his farm. 

“Oh, you got us here without killing us,” Kita says. “Fantastic.” 

“I did. Ye of little faith.” 

“I have faith in you,” Kita says, pushing open the door and grabbing his school bag from the floor. “It’s fine driving that I have little faith in.” 

Aran grins back. “Hopefully soon it’ll be good driving!” 

“Hopefully soon,” Kita replies, but before he can shut the door, Aran calls:

“Out of curiosity, on our last math test, did you use all the formulas we learned, or did you guess-and-check various answers until you got the right one?” 

“I don’t brute force things!” Kita shouts, before shutting the door loudly between them, an answer that makes Aran burst into laughter, watching Kita scowl at him through the class before turning away. 

Although they’d been friends for years at this point, Aran had only recently gotten a handle on his odd best friend. And he had to admit, annoying as he could be, he was interesting. And funny, and sweet, and-

Oh, god, he’s coming back-

Aran’s smiling to himself is interrupted by the passenger door suddenly being yanked open again, and Kita hurriedly says: 

“Thank you, for the ride home!” before shutting it again between them and turning to run up the path to his front door. 

---

“You’re still doing your pre-trip walkaround,” Kita comments, slipping into the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt immediately. 

“Of course I am,” Aran replies, lying. 

Kita smiles slightly, taking a moment to send a few messages on his phone before tucking it away for the drive. Aran starts the car, and immediately music is pumping through every vein of his body. He sees Kita startled, as if the music had been a gun going off. Aran hurries over to silence it. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“Do you drive with it at that volume?” Kita replies, evidently alarmed. 

“Only when the song is good!” Aran defends himself. 

Kita responds with a disgruntled hum very reminiscent of their teenage years, when he was definitively the boss of him. 

But things are different now. Things had been different for years. 

“Got everything?” Aran asks, glancing behind him as he slowly begins to pull out of the airport parking lot. 

“Yes,” Kita says. “And very excited to get home. Thank you, by the way, for coming to pick me up.” 

“No problem at all. I mean, I’d probably have asked to do it even if you hadn’t.” 

“Really? Why’s that? Just missed me that much?”

“Basically.” 

These last four years had been… long, to say the least. If Aran had thought that his best friend getting accepted into the actual Tokyo university to study agricultural sciences had been impressive, the fact that he’d maintained a perfect GPA while balancing several elective studies had been even more so. Almost, he’d say, more impressive than Aran’s leap to professional volleyball. But just because it had been impressive didn’t make the distance any better. Aran had stayed in Osaka, with the Falcons, but Kita had gone off for school. 

Throughout the years of knowing him, Aran had never thought that Kita would be the one to leave. 

But, of course, all of that was tempered by the fact that Kita had come back. Because of course he had. Kita had been vocal about that from the very first moment the Tokyo university had been in the discussion. Well, it would only be temporary, had become his catchphrase, attached to every conversation about the matter. Kita had never wanted to leave permanently. 

It hadn’t made Aran miss him any less fiercely, even knowing he’d come back.

So, sue him. He knows Kita’s grandmother wasn’t really up to the task of driving and picking him up, and it would be a cold day in Hell when he let one of the Miya twins do it. 

Kita smiles slightly at his response, and lets his breath out, stretching his arms slightly and undoubtedly tired from the flight and travel. 

“Are you hungry?” Aran asks. “We could stop somewhere.”

“No thank you,” Kita replies, stretching his shoulder. “I just want to head home, start unpacking.”

“You must really be excited to be home, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Kita replies. “As much as I can intellectualize the value of a good education, home is home, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.” 

Aran smiles slightly, nodding. 

“It certainly hasn’t been the same without you,” Aran says.

“Aww, sentimental,” Kita says, but it’s less of a sweet acknowledgement and more of a statement. It makes Aran chuckle. 

It was true. Aran really hadn’t wanted Kita to go away, and unfortunately for him distance had done its thing. Though Kita was and always would be his best friend, they’d both had to move on with their lives. Kita into school and study, him into practice, and games, and… well, both into the adult world. 

But maybe they could start building that back, now. Whatever closeness they’d had in high school wasn’t lost forever - like Kita had said, it was temporary. And now he was back, and Aran would know exactly where he could find him every weekend and holiday and day between. 

“Gonna miss any of your friends?” Aran asks. “From university, I mean?” 

“Uh…” Kita has to think about this for a moment, and this greatly amuses Aran, though he holds his tongue on the matter. “Yeah, I guess. I had several interesting classmates, and some of my teachers were excellent supports, but… You know me.” 

“Not one for friends, suddenly?”

“Something like that.”

“I guess I’m just that irreplaceable,” Aran says, jokingly puffing up his chest. “Unless you’re talking about Atsumu.”

“I am not talking about Atsumu.” 

Aran grins, reaching over to nudge him. “Aw, now who’s sentimental?”

“Both hands on the wheel.”

“Sorry, sorry-”

“I cannot help it,” Kita says, as Aran puts both hands back on the wheel. “I think, generally, I like people, but… I don’t click with people well. You know this, I’m… annoying, at best, for most people. Even though, and I stand by this, most people are lazy and wrong.”

“Most people are lazy and wrong,” Aran says. “And you’re not annoying. You just… know what you want.” 

“I do,” Kita says, before sighing and saying: “Unfortunately for me, knowing what I want isn’t good enough anymore.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“My grandmother has decided that she’s too old to wait anymore,” Kita says. “She has started finding me marriage candidates.”

“Oh,” Aran says, feeling his nose scrunch up reflexively in disgust. 

“Not that I’m against the idea of an arranged marriage,” Kita rationalizes. “I mean, flaws aside, a marriage must be built on choice and commitment, love doesn’t really factor into a marriage for anything but personal satisfaction, the success of the marriage doesn’t rely on it. Not… really.” 

“I don’t think you can intellectualize marriage, Shin,” Aran says. 

“I can try.” 

This makes Aran laugh, but it’s less joyful than it had been before, as they leave the city and hit the highway. It’s a familiar road back to Kita’s house, one he’d driven a hundred times before, he could almost do it blindfolded. Not that he’d ever say that out loud, lord knows Kita would take it way too seriously. 

“Shin, you know as well as I do that you won’t be happy with an arranged marriage,” Aran says. “You should talk to your grandmother.” 

“I know,” Kita says. “But… she’s been in control of our family’s business for as long as I’ve been alive. Denying her seems… an impossible task.” 

“At least…” Aran cannot believe he’s saying this. “At least make her let you choose.” 

At least, Aran says. Like he’s conceding to the idea that this must happen immediately.

But what can he do? It’s not like he could snap his fingers and make Kita’s grandmother give up on seeing him marry before she dies. 

But it is a middle ground. And maybe Kita doesn’t have the stomach to fight her on the whole concept, but she might concede to allowing him some influence. 

“Maybe,” Kita agrees. “It would be nice, I think. To have control over that.”

“Were you not… dating at all before?” Aran asks, because it occurs to him that Kita and him, even at the peak of their friendship, had never… they’d never really talked - about girls, about dating, about love. 

Kita had never been into it before, right? This marriage thing must be a headache for him - maybe he didn’t want a romance at all.

“Not really,” Kita confirms. “I’m not…” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m annoying, I guess, I don’t really know what I want.”

“Well… no matter what,” Aran says, reaching over impulsively to put a hand on his shoulder. “Arranged marriage or whatever, you’ll have me to fall back on. Even if she’s the most boring, dull girl in the world, I’ll make sure to keep your lift interesting.” 

This makes Kita smile slightly, not quite a laugh. 

“That’s very sweet,” Kita says. “Sentimental, you could say.”

“I could. I do.”

“What about you? Any girls in your life?” Kita asks. 

“No,” Aran says, almost immediately. There’s a moment, where he almost wants to say it, out loud. ‘Though if we’re being honest, I’m not looking exclusively for girls, you know.’ 

But he doesn’t think that’ll go over super well. It might make things more awkward, if anything. Even if Aran had done most of that soul searching long, long ago, he’d never found good timing to bring it up to anyone. Especially not Kita. What would he think? 

And the drive back from the airport certainly wasn’t the right time for it. 

“None?” Kita says.

“What can I say?” Aran says. “I’m… waiting.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean for what?”

“What are you waiting for?” Kita presses. 

“I’m waiting for… the one,” Aran says, as if that’s clear enough. After a second, he continues. “I don’t know, but… I don’t really feel the need to date around. I’m looking for someone I can settle down with, someone I can love and marry and build a life with. And… I think I’ll know them when I see them.” 

“That’s… romantic,” Kita says. 

“Is it?” 

“I didn’t take you for a romantic.” 

“Well, you’re not very good with people,” Aran says. 

This makes Kita laugh, more properly, and he nods along. 

“That’s true,” Kita agrees, after a minute. “I’m really not that good with people. You know, I thought university would fix that. That I’d be forced to meet new people, new types of people, that I’d be forced to communicate and learn from all kinds, that it would help me figure out how to communicate better myself. And… maybe it did, but… I still just feel like myself.”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe? University is supposed to change you. But… when I went away, all I thought about was coming home. Basically from the moment the plane took off, I was daydreaming about the day it would land again. I waited for every spring and winter break to come home, every free day I could afford it. Everyone I met… they could have been the most interesting people in the world, and I wouldn’t have known. They say home is where the heart is, but I think that doesn’t do it justice. Home is the heart, through and through. And… for me, at least, that is here in Osaka. So you asked about my friends, and the truth is… I didn’t really make any. A couple of classmates I studied with, people who thought I was weird or annoying. But… nobody compares to you.” 

Aran is silent for a moment, before saying: “There’s nothing wrong with that. You know, sometimes the wide world changes you, and other times… it just reminds you what you already knew. It’s fine either way.” 

“Yeah,” Kita agrees. “I think I’m just really glad to be home.” 

“We’re really glad to have you home,” Aran agrees. “You might think that Osaka is your heart, but it hasn’t felt the same since you’d left. So maybe you’re Osaka’s heart, too. At least for me.” 

Kita smiles slightly, before saying: “That’s a very sweet sentiment, Aran.” 

“I’m glad to have you back,” Aran repeats, about the same time they’re pulling up to the narrow driveway towards Kita’s farm. “I can’t say it enough.”

Kita undoes his seatbelt, half preparing to leave. 

“I’m glad to be back. And we should hang out more. Me and you. And the rest of the guys. I assume there’s a lot I’ve missed that I’ll need to catch up on.” 

“You have no idea. Osamu went to business school.”

“A terrifying sentence,” Kita says, before pushing open the door. “Thank you for driving me home,” he says. 

“You’re welcome. And - Shin?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let your grandmother control your life. I know you want to make you happy, but… just… you gotta be happy too, man. It’s not all about following the path laid out for you, you gotta walk the path you wanna walk.” 

“Once again, Ojiro. Smarter than you look.”

“Thanks. Wait-”

Kita shuts the door. 

---

Aran parks at the end of the driveway outside Kita’s family farm. The moon has already risen, the sound of foxes out in the bushes accompany crickets, and the cool sound of night air against the windshield of his car. He pulls out his phone, the harsh white light of the screen burning his eyes, and he expects to see Kita come down from the front door, but he doesn’t. 

He rises like a zombie, from where Aran had missed him sitting on the gravel just on the other side of the farm’s fenceline. 

Kita knocks on the passenger side window, Aran thinks he’s about to be killed by a monster. When he recovers, he catches his breath and leans over to push the door open. Kita gets in silently, head down, not looking at him. Aran thinks, for a minute, that he should ask. 

‘Hey, what was the text about?’ but he doesn’t. He sees hot red burning around Kita’s eyes, colouring his nose. He sees a person who has already cried until his throat hurt, and doesn’t think asking now is going to help. 

Aran glances up at the farm, the lights on, warm and homely like it always has been. 

I need you to come pick me up.

It had been a simple text, that Kita had not elaborated on at all. Just repeating it. 

Please. I’m at the farm. Please. 

So Aran had. 

Of course he had. 

There are goosebumps crawling up Kita’s arm, and it occurs to Aran, as he backs out of the driveway to turn around and make his way back to the highway, that he’s not exactly dressed for a midnight excursion. He’s wearing a thin t-shirt, loose sleep pants, like he’d already gotten into bed before deciding he needed to leave. He leans his elbow on the door of the car, propping his head up in his hand to look out the window. He doesn’t look at Aran, but Aran can see his eyes through the dark glass. 

They hit the highway, and Aran reaches over to turn off the quiet music that had been playing in the background, knowing Kita was usually one to fill the air with his constant barrage of opinions. But the moment he does, Kita reaches cover and turns it on again, and stays silent. 

Aran flexes his hand against the wheel, and continues to drive. 

The highway is almost abandoned at this time of night. And as much as Aran wants to give Kita as much space as he can, he can’t exactly drive in circles forever. 

“So…”

The moment Aran speaks, he sees Kita close his eyes in the reflection of the window. 

“I need to know where to take you,” Aran corrects to, knowing he should keep his eyes on the road, but finding it impossible not to split his attention to him, eyes looking over his miserable expression for any hint of what was going on. 

Kita doesn’t respond. 

“Shin,” Aran says. 

“I don’t care,” Kita replies. 

Aran feels his jaw tighten, and tries to keep himself relaxed. 

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” Aran says, after a minute. “This is freaking me out, Kita.”

“It’s fine,” Kita mutters back, still not looking at him. “Can we go to your place?” 

“Oh,” Aran says. “Uhm… okay. Sure. Like, for the night?” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Aran puts his turn signal on, quickly switching lanes in the highway to redirect himself back towards his own apartment. 

Kita stays silent. 

Aran listens to the song on the radio completely inappropriately sing about having a party. He reaches to turn it off again. Kita lets him, this time, but turns his head to look further out the window, into the dark, passing road. 

They drive in silence, for a bit. Aran pulls off the highway, turns into the city. He doesn’t think Kita’s memorized the fastest route to his apartment, and he’s proven right when Kita doesn’t notice him skipping the turn to his apartment. 

It’s just a short drive, until he’s pulled over into a dark parking lot by a gas station, glancing to confirm it was still open at this time of night before turning the car off. 

Kita notices the aberration from the route, now, lifting his head in surprise and turning to look over at Aran. 

“Where are we?” 

“Hang tight,” Aran says, pushing open the door and disappearing out into the night. Kita is left to sit there on his own, folding his hands together between his knees, and leaning forward, peering out the windshield and waiting for Aran’s return. He only takes a couple of minutes, and then the driver’s door is opening and he’s slipping back in. 

The cold air is locked out again, and Aran hands what he’s holding over to Kita. 

“An… ice cream sandwich?” Kita says, reaching up hesitantly to take the packaged ice cream. 

“Close,” Aran says. “An ice cream cookie sandwich. It’s made with cookies. Instead of… whatever the… whatever the dough is normally.” 

Kita stares at him for a moment, before looking down at the package. He doesn’t move to open it, but Aran figures that’s okay. He just tears open the one he got for himself, quite happy to take a bite. 

After a second, he hears Kita rustling within the package, tugging it open to remove the sweet. You’d think the man has never eaten food before, from the way he leans in to nibble off the edge of the cookie. 

Aran is more focused on eating his own cookie sandwich, letting the silence hang all the way through until he had taken the last bite. Kita was still working on his, but the beauty of ice cream was that it really didn’t allow you to hum and haw over whether or not you were going to eat it. As it started to melt, Kita was forced to eat faster and commit to it. 

When he’s about halfway done, and Aran is sure that he’s not going to volunteer any more information, Aran says: 

“Look, I’m happy to let you stay at my place, but I’m… really worried, Shin. What happened?”

Kita, fighting with the rapidly melting ice cream, glances up at him now, for the first time properly making eye contact with him. A look of shame crosses over him, and then he looks away again, to the cookie sandwich. 

“My gran was… pushing for me to marry Mei,” Kita says, after a minute. Aran nods slightly, having assumed that this would happen - Mei being Kita’s recent long term girlfriend as set up by his grandmother. They didn’t talk about her a lot. Kita didn’t talk about her a lot in general, Aran thought. “And she was pushing, and pushing, and pushing, and eventually… I told her that… I wasn’t going to. And then she wouldn’t stop pushing. She wouldn’t stop, Aran, there was an endless list of why and why and why, and nothing was good enough. No amount of wanting to control my life, no amount of wanting to wait for the right person, no amount of answering her was enough, nothing was enough for her and eventually, I just… told her that…” Kita flinches at his own words, squeezing his eyes shut at the same time ice cream drips onto his finger. 

Aran reaches forward immediately, taking the rest of the sandwich from him so that it wouldn’t clutter his mind, and Kita lets his breath out. 

“I told her that I was gay, Aran,” Kita finishes, like it was something to be horrified by. 

And now Aran has the problem of ice cream dripping onto his fingers. 

“You… what?” 

“I wasn’t going to, I was going to do everything in my power to… I thought I could push it down with brute force. But you…. You and your stupid sincerity. Telling me to choose the path I walk. Well… look where that fucking got me.” 

Kita looks away, and Aran gets the impression that a much weaker man would be punching the car dashboard right about now. But it’s not a weaker man, it’s Kita. And Kita’s already done his crying for the night. 

So he’s pushing it down now. 

“Shin…”

“Just-”

“What did she say? Your grandmother, what did she say?” Aran asks. 

“She just started screaming at me, saying I was just saying it to make her mad. I don’t think I’ve ever fought with her. And I couldn’t, not tonight, I just… I texted you, and I ran. I don’t think she even noticed I just stayed by the road, she probably assumed I went further. She can’t really… fuck, Aran, she can’t even get down the stairs on her own anymore-” 

“Hey-” Aran says, reaching a hand out at the same time Kita’s eyes begin to fill with water again. 

“No, Aran, I wasn’t thinking, I have to go back,” he says. “I have to go back, it’s not safe for her to be on her own, I have to go back, take me back-” 

“Shin, listen-”

“No, no-” Kita cuts himself, and Aran watches both his hands clench tightly into fists against his chest, and he rocks forward, squeezing his eyes shut. “I have to go back, I can’t leave, I can’t leave, I can’t leave, take me back-”

It’s not the pleading of a man who wants to go home - it’s the realization of a man stuck in prison, unable to make a break for it. 

I can’t leave. 

“Please!” Kita says, voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have called you! I shouldn’t have called you, take me back!” 

“Okay, okay!” Aran says, briefly panicking and tossing the scrap of cookie sandwich out the window of the car, licking ice cream off his thumb as he turns the key in the ignition and starts the car up.

Kita doesn’t calm down, not even once they’re on the highway. He breaks into exhausted sobbing, no more water in his body to lose, but his muscles racking him for more to give anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, Aran watches him double over and grab at his hair, shaking his head. 

Aran takes him home. 

To the same place he’d been. The same driveway, the familiar driveway. Kita feels the car stop, frantically trying to swallow back his sobbing. 

Kita is trying to leave almost before Aran has stopped the car. He just barely manages to catch Kita by the wrist, pulling him back. 

“Hey-”

“Let me go, I need to go-”

“Shinsuke, listen to me-”

Something in his voice must catch his attention, because Kita half sits down again, turning to face him, face red now. 

And everything Aran might say leaves his mind. 

He moves his hand down, to take Kita’s, squeezing his fingers gently. 

“Call me, if you need anything, okay?” Aran says. “Please.”

Kita stares back at him, and Aran thinks for a minute it’s going to be rejected - but instead of turning to rush away, Kita lunges forward suddenly, across the middle of the car, to wrap his arms tightly around Aran’s neck, the hug a terribly awkward angle. Aran shifts to meet it the best he can anyway, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could, as if he could squeeze him into feeling better. 

“Thank you,” Kita says, softly, skin hot and wet with tears against his neck. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” Aran starts to say, but before he can finish, Kita has shoved himself away and out of the car, swinging the door shut behind him and turning to race up the driveway and back to the entrance to the old family farm. 

Aran sits there for a long time. He turns off the headlights of his car, but he doesn’t cut the engine. 

He considers going in. But that would probably make things profoundly worse. 

After thirty minutes, Kita doesn’t come rushing out of the house changing his mind, so Aran turns the lights back on, and slowly leaves the property. 

---

They shut their doors in unison. 

By the time Aran has turned the car ignition, Kita has already turned the music off. 

“Okay, but that’s insane, because with the current line-up of players on the Jackals, it’s almost impossible for them to lose. I mean, maybe I understand being skeptical of Bokuto Kotaro because he can be a bit of a wildcard, but Atsumu has that underwraps, he knows how to play with wildcards.” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so deadset on backing Atsumu on this,” Aran laughs, carefully turning around to back out of the restaurant parking lot. “Normally you hate the guy.”

“I have never hated-” Kita cuts himself off, thinking about this for a moment before saying: “I haven’t hated Atsumu in years. And it’s not about backing him, per se, it’s more about the… philosophy of it all. I mean, he has Ninja Shoyo now, which as far as I’m concerned is the reason we got blocked from sweeping nationals. So if you pair the best setter up with the best offensive player, what do you get?”

“Okay, hey, hey,” Aran says. “First of all, I’m also a D1 player and am beginning to think you don’t think very highly of me.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Kita replies. “I’m shocked that you don’t think the Jackals will take it.”

“It’s not that I don’t think they’ll take it,” Aran says. “I mean, they’re brilliant, they have some of the best players in Japan. But did you catch that? The keyword is some. And I refuse to blindly back Atsumu, I am going to bet against him every single chance I get. Just because I know it pisses him off.” 

“Oh, that’s very you,” Kita says, scoffing. “Betting with your gut and not your brain.” 

“Hey, it’s gotten me this far. And besides, it’s not like I’m not also betting with my brain. The Adlers also have some of the best players in Japan, remember?”

“Keyword being some.”

“Ah, yes, that’s true.” 

Kita shakes his head, but Aran can see the smile playing across his face, as he pulls out his phone to check the time. 

“Though you are right about one thing,” Kita says, after a second. 

“Just one?”

“If Atsumu asks, I’m saying I put my money on Kageyama.” 

This makes Aran laugh, and in short order the car is out on the road, and they’re reaching cruising speed right as the sun has begun to set on the summer’s evening. It’s a beautiful look, as the sun sets low over the rice fields, burning gold out over the farms. It catches Kita’s attention for a second, and Aran lets himself enjoy it, before saying: 

“Now you get it. It’s not about who will win, it’s about how much emotional damage we can cause Atsumu before the big game.” 

“It’s not even his game,” Kita says, having been distracted by the sun set. “I mean, people only care because it’s going to be Kageyama and Hinata’s big matchup for the first time in years. I have no idea why he’s so stressed about it.” 

“Well I think it started because Osamu’s hosting that watch party,” Aran says. “And then Suna put money against him, and then Osamu switched the watch party to a “watch Atsumu lose” party and…”

“You know you’re all going to lose your money, right?” Kita says. “Especially doing all this. Atsumu thrives off proving people wrong, if you really wanted to throw him off his game, you’d send him a fruit basket with a you got this! letter and watch him let his guard down.” 

This makes Aran laugh again, and he has to admit that Kita has a point. Atsumu being overconfident is typically what trips him up. Thinking he’s the underdog will only light a fire under him. 

“Maybe. Maybe that was our plan all along.”

“It wasn’t, but okay.” 

Aran grins again, taking the turn off to Kita’s farm, slowing down as they make their way up the backroads. 

“Speaking of,” Kita says, after a second. “When’s your next game?” 

“We are on a bit of a break,” Aran says. “But we’ll be playing again at the end of the month.”

“Can you get me tickets?” 

Aran tries not to let himself smile too wide. 

“I think I can manage that. My mom will be mad, but…”

“Oh, no, if your mom wants them, give them to her-”

“I’m joking.”

“Oh.” 

Aran laughs, and Kita swats at him gently, before saying:

“Good. I was only being polite anyway. I need an excuse to wear my new jersey.” 

“Your - you did not.”

“I did.”

“Is it mine?”

“No, it’s Hakuba’s - of course it’s yours, stupid,” Kita says. “They finally released your eighteen, I needed it.”

“God, you… you’re…” 

But Aran doesn’t even know what he wants to say, instead lifting a hand up to press over his face, to hide the way he was smiling like a fucking idiot about it. Moreso about the image of Kita wearing his jersey, up in the stands of the game and cheering for him. That he could nudge Gao and point and say hey, that’s my boyfriend. 

“I’ll get you those tickets,” he says, after a second, as he turns the car to park at the edge of the path up to Kita’s home. 

“Good,” he says, sitting back in his seat as he turns his head to look up at the farm. It was quiet, sitting up there in the setting sun. Kita had been running it alone, since his grandmother had passed, but had a good few employees he was able to use to keep up with the work. 

Even so, Aran was sure it was a hell of a lot of work. How he found the time to come to games - or go on first dates - was beyond him, Aran couldn’t imagine. 

Well… actually he could imagine. 

He could imagine quite well. He could imagine waking up in the traditional farmhouse, he could imagine helping Kita arrange for the harvest, keep the machines in good repair and cook dinner in the evening. They could go to games in the evening and share dinner, just the two of them. They could find a path to walk all their own. 

Kita doesn’t make a move to leave right away, eventually letting his breath out and looking back to Aran. 

“Thank you, for… the… dinner,” Kita says, after a minute, as if unable to decide exactly where he wanted to end that sentence.

“Thank you for letting me take you out.”

“Oh, there was certainly no imposition on my part,” Kita says.

“How do you… feel?” Aran says, after a second. “I mean, a first date is… just a first date, after all. Did you have fun? Would you want to do it again?”

Kita smiles slightly, for him, before nodding. “Yeah, I would,” he says. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Aran echoes again, realizing he’s still smiling so stupidly. He can see that it almost makes Kita laugh, though, so it can’t be all that bad. 

“Uhm… Yeah, I had a lot of fun,” Kita says, after a second. “I haven’t really dated, at all, and…”

“Oh, god, I hope it wasn’t weird,” Aran says. 

“Weird?”

“You know, being friends and all. I really like you. I think I’ve liked you since we were stupid teenagers learning to drive, I just… it took my brain a while to realize who I was waiting for.” 

“It took me a while to show up, anyway,” Kita says. “But, no, no, it wasn’t weird. If anything it felt… less weird than I’ve felt for a while. I had a lot of fun. With you, with my friend. The kind of fun that I want to have for the rest of my life. Nothing like what I’m used to dating feeling like.” 

“That’s… good?”

“That’s very good.”

“Well, I’m glad then. And will very happily take you on a second date, if you’re interested.”

“I am interested.”

“Good.”

And the conversation stalled, Kita with one hand on the door handle. Aran with both his still resting on the steering wheel, as if it wasn’t in park. 

“So… I guess this is goodbye?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you later,” Aran says. 

“For sure. Thank you for driving me home. Again.”

“It’s my pleasure.” 

“Okay.”

“Yep.”

Aran is approaching thirty. It should not be this nerve-wracking going on a date. It should not be this nerve-wracking saying goodbye. It should not be this nerve-wracking asking to kiss someone. 

Kita pulls on the handle to the door, popping it open a bit. 

“Wait,” Aran says, before he can open it properly, reaching over to take Kita by the shoulder. Before he can even actually commit to kissing him, Kita has taken the touch and ran with the permission, pushing into him, the kiss sweet with the last remnants of dessert on his lips. 

Aran can’t do anything but try to live through it, his hand coming up to Kita’s cheek before he can stop himself. 

It’s longer than a first kiss should be, he thinks, but it’s almost a decade in the making. Aran does nothing but enjoy it, enjoy the warmth, the closeness, the moment as the sun sets. 

He feels Kita’s hands glide down, to rest against his collarbone as he pulls away. 

“This wasn’t the best position for that, was it?” Kita says, a soft red creeping over his features. 

“Nothing in a car is ever easy,” Aran agrees, wondering if he can steal another kiss or twelve before Kita gets out of the car. But the hand pressed just under his collarbone keeps him away, as Kita looks up at him, with those stupidly sweet brown eyes. Like everything else about Kita, Aran was probably going to have to court him the old fashioned way. 

So a first kiss was probably just going to be one kiss. 

Probably for the better. 

“Thank you, again.” Kita says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Kita smiles again, before somewhat bashfully pulling away from him, slipping out of the car door and leaning down for a last few words. 

“I’ll see you later,” Kita says. 

“You will see me later,” Aran replies, before Kita shuts the door between them, giving him a wave through the glass before he turns to head up towards his farm. 

---

Both doors open and shut in sync. 

“Oh my god, I feel like I’m going to pass out,” Shinsuke complains, immediately leaning down to take his shoes off, pushing them to the side. Aran grins, watching him wait to tug at the obi around his middle, loosening it to great personal relief well before bothering with his seatbelt. 

Shinsuke, of course, looked perfect. Being the kind of guy he was, he’d gone with the most traditional kind of wear, and Aran could not deny that he looked like a prince of old, like someone that should be kept on a bed of flowers and worshipped. 

It made a sharp contrast to the sleek black tuxedo Aran had worn, but having already seen some of the pictures the guests had been taking, he’s fairly certain that they made quite the image up at the altar. You’d never seen two more complementary grooms than them. 

Aran unpins the boutonniere from his chest and sets it aside, loosening his tie as well before pulling his seatbelt on. 

“You weren’t too tired to make me do a pre-trip check,” Aran says. 

“We just got married, Alan, we can’t die now,” Shinsuke replies, waving his hand. “We have a life to live, or whatever.” 

“Or whatever. You’re usually a lot more eloquent than this.” 

“Stop bullying me! I just spent, like, a thousand hours talking and complimenting and thanking people. You know I’m no good with people. I wanna go home and sleep. It’s too late. So just-”

Aran nods, conceding to his new husband and doing his job, pulling out of the reception venue and starting up the short jaunt back to the farm. They hadn’t gone far to get married - home, after all, was Osaka. Where better to get married? 

The radio is still playing softly, and when he sees Shinsuke reach over to the dials, he expects it to be shut off, so that Shinsuke could replace it with his stream of consciousness. But he doesn’t, he turns it up instead. 

“Oh?” 

“I love this song,” Shinsuke says, giving him a grin as the music takes over. 

They don’t need to talk on the way home. They’ve had their whole lives to talk - and they have their whole lives ahead of them to keep talking. 

Right now, they just jam out to the song on the radio. They sing along, both bad and good as the songs and keys change. Crooning love ballads, wailing pop songs. There’s a part of Aran that doesn’t think he’s seen Shinsuke this happy in his whole life - and this a significantly bigger part of Aran that’s so glad they got there eventually. 

They ride the highway, late at night, to the familiar exit ramp. It’s not until they’re back on the backroads that Shinsuke reaches to turn the radio down, but he doesn’t stop singing, head bobbing along, feet tapping. Aran hums along with him. 

They pull up to the farm, the porch light having been left on, glowing a warm welcome home yellow. 

Shinsuke slips his shoes back on, and grabs his things. Aran waits to make sure they have everything, and then they get out of the car together, the beep of it locking echoing as they shut the doors together, and Aran moves around in front of the car to meet Shinsuke. 

It’s something like in to bed? that he says, by the hood of the car. Shinsuke mumbles an agreement, but doesn’t hurry to get inside down, backing him up against the hood of the car to kiss him instead. Aran doesn’t even consider complaining, wrapping his arms around him tightly, as the car headlights time out and leave them kissing in the darkness. 

Alright, time to go inside, Aran says, and before Shinsuke can protest any, he leans down and sweeps him up into his arm, making Shinsuke laugh raucously, throwing his head back and weakly batting at Aran as he settles his arm under his knees. What, Aran would be saying. It’s a wedding tradition. And you’re all about traditions, aren’t you? 

Shinsuke cannot refute that, instead just wrapping his arms around his neck, and letting him carry him away from the car, up the path to their front door.