Archive of Our Own

Ushijima’s laptop stops working the day before his spring semester classes start. It would be more convenient and easier to buy a new one (Mother always gives him more money than he needs), but his laptop is only a year old. He hasn’t used it extensively or in a way it shouldn’t be used, e.g., to download movies that he hasn’t paid for or to watch pornography. He has only used the laptop for researching, typing essays, editing photos of Tokyo that he has taken with his digital camera, sending the photos to Father, and watching official videos of volleyball matches. It would be wasteful to throw the laptop away without first checking to see why it keeps restarting whenever he tries to turn it on. So, he decides to take it to the computer repair shop a block north from his apartment.

The shop, Irihata Electronics, is small and narrow, sandwiched between a café and a restaurant. It is on a busy street lined with a variety of stores and offices. The street leads to a recreation center.

Three laptops are currently on display behind the windows of the repair shop. A chalkboard has been placed near the front door. On the board, someone has written in large, slightly sloppy handwriting:

We Fix All Things!
Computers, Printers, Watches

And there is a third line, written in very small characters, that says: But not broken hearts, you’re on your own there, sorry :P

Ushijima tightens his grip on his laptop bag. It is unprofessional to write such a statement on an outdoor sign. His mother would never step foot in this store. There’s no telling what these employees will do to his computer.

But, he reasons, the third line may have been added by a customer. Besides, it is already getting late, and his first class will start at 8:00 A.M. tomorrow. The sooner he gets his laptop inspected, the better. He might have to leave it at the shop for a few days. He can do without his computer for the first week of class, but he will need it by next weekend. Sunday at the latest.

Thus resolved, Ushijima pushes the door open and enters the shop. A bell chimes above him. He glances at the long checkout counter directly in front of him. Two employees who look about his age are standing behind the counter. A desktop computer lays open in front of them, wires sticking out into the air.

There are no other customers at the shop. The employees are arguing about something. That is, the man with the short black hair is yelling and waving a screwdriver around, while the one with wavy brown hair is protesting, but in a pleasant, almost soothing tone of voice. Ushijima has never heard anything quite like it.

The black-haired man wins the argument, it seems, by talking louder than the other employee, pushing the screwdriver into the latter’s hand, and also turning his back on him. After this is done, he says to Ushijima, “Welcome. What can we do for you?”

Before Ushijima can reply, the brown-haired man says, “Customer-san, did you not see the sign outside the door? We can’t fix broken hearts.”

Ushijima is so surprised by this odd comment, he cannot think of anything to say for a long moment.

The man (Oikawa Tooru, according to the nametag) smiles, wide, almost kind. His words were not kind, however. And he is observing Ushijima with a contemplative, searching look, like he is trying to figure Ushijima out, the present and past, the strong and weak points, based on what he sees in front of him.

Ushijima places his bag on the counter and takes his laptop out. He says, “I need my laptop to be repaired. My heart is fine. It is not broken.”

“Be more specific,” the other employee says. “What’s wrong with your laptop? Is it turning on? Are you getting a blue screen?”

Ushijima feels a bit reassured by this employee’s questions. He checks the nametag pinned to the man’s shirt. Iwaizumi Hajime.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, opening the laptop. “How about you fix up Tobio-chan’s ancient desktop. It should be easy, even for you. And I’ll take a look at this. I am the resident Macbook expert after all, right?”

“What do you mean, even for me?” Iwaizumi says. “Who’s the one who does ninety-five percent of the work around here?”

“But I work more hours than you, right?” Oikawa says. “I barely have any time to do my homework.”

“Which university do you attend?” Ushijima asks.

Oikawa frowns at him. “We ask the questions around here,” he says. “Not you, Mr.…?”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“What a mouthful. I think Ushiwaka fits you better, don’t you? You look like an Ushiwaka-chan to me.”

“What does that even mean?” Iwaizumi mutters as he moves the desktop off of the counter and into the room behind him.

“Don’t call me that, Oikawa,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa, smiling, turns on Ushijima’s laptop. “Now then,” he says, almost to himself. “Let’s see what naughty things you’ve been doing, Ushiwaka-chan.”

“Cut it out, Asskawa,” Iwaizumi says from the backroom. “Kuroo filed a complaint against you last week, remember? Irihata-san said he’s going to dock your pay.”

“But Ushiwaka-chan isn’t Kuroo, is he?” Oikawa picks up a clipboard and a pen from the counter. “You worry too much, Mom.”

Iwaizumi pokes his head out of the room. There is a menacing look in his eyes. “You want to say that again?” he says.

Ushijima feels that he needs to say something to get things back on track. He has already spent far too much time in this shop. Oikawa is working at a slow pace and looks like he can carry on a conversation until the end of time. His displays of immaturity are also grating on Ushijima’s nerves a bit.

He says, “I want Iwaizumi to fix my laptop.”

Oikawa scowls. “How bossy,” he says. “We can’t all get what we want.”

The laptop has begun to restart by itself again. Oikawa holds the power button down. He is still frowning.

Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa before turning to Ushijima and saying, “Oikawa is good at fixing things that don’t belong to him. You can trust him.”

The laptop shuts off again, and Oikawa folds his arms. He says, “Maybe I don’t want to fix his computer anymore. What a rude man.”

Ushijima says, “I did not mean to be rude. My classes are starting tomorrow, so I need my computer to be fixed quickly. That’s all.”

Oikawa sighs. “Have you seen anyone as annoying as this person before, Iwa-chan?”

“Not too many,” Iwaizumi says. He returns to the backroom.

Oikawa clicks his pen open and starts writing Ushijima’s name on the form. He writes it neatly but spells “Wakatoshi” wrong and also adds “Ushiwaka-chan” in parenthesis. Then, he says, “I bet you think the world revolves around you, Ushiwaka-chan. Your needs come before those of others, right? Everyone is here to serve you? That kind of thing. Hmph.”

“No,” Ushijima says. “But the purpose of your repair shop is to repair your customers’ electronics. Am I wrong?”

Oikawa frowns at him. “Are you a law student or something?”

“No. I am majoring in environmental science.”

“How boring.”

Before Ushijima can explain how interesting and necessary environmental science is, Oikawa begins to ask questions about the laptop. He asks questions that Ushijima does not know the answer to, like what is the processor speed of the laptop and what graphics card it uses. He continues to write as he talks. His handwriting, Ushijima notices, is beginning to resemble the one on the board outside.

Ushijima is not pleased. But he is also remembering what his father said about meeting new people. That there are all sorts of people in the world and that it’s important to go out more and meet them, perhaps befriend them.

Also, Iwaizumi said that Oikawa can fix anything. That is all Ushijima needs. An adequate fix. He waits quietly while Oikawa fills out the form.

“So,” Oikawa says, on reaching the bottom of the form. He taps his pen on the clipboard. “What do you use your laptop for? List all of your activities, okay, don’t be shy.”

Ushijima begins to describe the problems, and Oikawa takes notes again, not looking at him. When Ushijima mentions the word “volleyball,” however, Oikawa’s head snaps up. He asks, “Do you play volleyball?”

“Not anymore.” Ushijima is confused by the sudden interest, and he is confused by his own interest in Oikawa’s interest. He clears his throat.

“Huh.” Oikawa looks him up and down, his gaze lingering on Ushijima’s thighs for a moment. “A career-ending injury?”

“No. My mother wanted me to focus on my education after junior high, so I went to a high school that was strong in academics but did not have a dedicated volleyball team. I have not played since then.”

Oikawa asks, tone almost casual, “Do you miss playing?”

“I have not played in years.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Oikawa glares at him. “Anyway. Not to worry, Ushiwaka-chan, I think I know what’s wrong with your laptop. I’m a little disappointed that the cause of your problem is so boring, but maybe you’ll have more disgusting problems later and can tell me about them. Here’s a card.”

He leans over the counter and tucks a card into the breast pocket of Ushijima’s shirt. Oikawa smells very nice up close, Ushijima notes. A fruity-floral scent, but not especially synthetic or cloying.

Oikawa is very pretty too. Probably photogenic. His hair is thick and looks soft. It is as brown as the old, majestic trees in the parks Ushijima likes to visit.

Oikawa moves back and puts a hand on his hip. He asks, “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong with your computer?”

“What’s wrong with my computer?” Ushijima asks immediately.

“I’m going to run a few tests, but it’s most likely an issue with your logic board. You might need to have it replaced. Do you have a protection plan for this laptop?”

“No.”

“Sucks to be you then. This is going to cost you. You can either buy a new laptop, or you can get it repaired from the Apple store and kiss any savings you may have goodbye.”

Ushijima frowns. “Iwaizumi said that you can fix anything.”

“This isn’t anything. It’ll take me hours. I have classes too, remember?”

“You can do it,” Ushijima says.

He is not sure why he is suddenly so confident in Oikawa’s abilities. Maybe he isn’t confident. Maybe he just wants Oikawa to be able to perform this repair. He likes that Oikawa hasn’t displayed any baseless self-confidence.

Oikawa grimaces a bit, and looks very put-upon, before finally agreeing.

“Will you be done by Saturday?” Ushijima asks.

“No. Come on Sunday. Are you always like this?”

“I’ll see you on Sunday.”

That was the wrong thing to say, Ushijima realizes when Oikawa raises his eyebrows. He clarifies, “That is, I’ll pick my laptop up on Sunday.”

Oikawa slides the clipboard over the counter. “Sign here. And write your password on that line.” He taps a finger on a blank line. “I really hope you don’t use one password for all your accounts.”

Ushijima writes it down. As he is signing, he replies, “No, I do not.”

Oikawa takes the pen out of Ushijima’s hand carefully, not letting their fingers touch. He opens his mouth. Before he can say anything more, however, the bell at the front door chimes and another customer steps into the shop, calling out a hearty “hello.” Then Iwaizumi comes out of the backroom.

Ushijima glances at Oikawa, who says now, loudly, “Thank you, come again, have a nice day.”

“You too,” Ushijima says. He nods at Iwaizumi. Then he leaves the shop.

***

After eating breakfast on Sunday morning, Ushijima heads back to the shop. He wants to avoid the midday rush that happens on weekends, but as soon as he walks through the door, he sees that there are already three other customers inside.

He gets into line behind a young man who has bleached all of his hair except for two parallel stripes in the middle. Oikawa is helping an elderly lady with her iPad at the counter. He is wearing glasses today.

Oikawa asks the lady to confirm that her repaired iPad is running smoothly by showing him photos of her granddaughter on the Photos app. She likes this very much, judging by the loud “bless you, child, I had almost lost hope about the state of the youth today, but here is a young man with perfect manners.”

The man in front of Ushijima grunts in disapproval. Then he takes a cell phone out of his pocket and snaps a photo of Oikawa.

Ushijima asks him, “Has Oikawa given you permission to take photos of him?”

“Mind your own damn business,” the man says. He is almost snarling. “Oikawa-san doesn’t need to give me permission, and I’m not taking photos of him for myself! Why the fuck would I do that?”

“No arguments in the shop, please,” Oikawa calls out from the front. “We’ll get to you soon.”

Then he looks at Ushijima and says, “Oh, there you are, Ushiwaka-chan! Right on time. Two lattes for Iwa-chan and me from the café next door, thank you.”

Iwaizumi says, “No, I want a plain espresso, one shot. No sugar or cream.”

It would be simpler to get the coffee instead of trying to work out why these two are suddenly giving him orders. Also, the line is moving slowly. Ushijima leaves the shop.

The line is longer in the café than it was at Irihata Electronics, but the baristas are working quickly, with cheerful but minimal chatter. His order is ready in under ten minutes. The barista who made his drinks, a man named Sugawara, puts the two cups of coffee into a clean tray, gives him a kind smile, and wishes him a good day.

When Ushijima returns to the repair shop, he sees that there is another person standing in his former spot in the line. The guy who had taken the photo is at the counter now, glowering as Oikawa examines his cell phone. Ushijima lingers by the door.

“Iwa-chan will help you now, Mad Dog-chan,” Oikawa says to his customer, and then he beckons to Ushijima with one finger.

Mad Dog-chan shuffles over to Iwaizumi with the cell phone, looking a little less grumpy. Ushijima walks over to the counter and hands the cup of espresso to Iwaizumi. He is pulling the latte out of the tray when Oikawa touches his hand, lightly, a brush of fingertips against skin.

Ushijima looks at Oikawa’s long fingers. His fingernails are clean and clipped short. There is a faint trace of ink on one side of his right pointer finger.

Oikawa says, “That latte is for you. I’ve already had two cups this morning. You don’t want to see what I’m like after three cups, right Iwa-chan?”

Without looking up, Iwaizumi says, “Five minutes.”

“He’s stricter than our boss,” Oikawa murmurs to Ushijima. Then he opens the door to the backroom and says, “Well, come along, Ushiwaka-chan. You’re allowed to visit our workshop since you brought us coffee.”

Ushijima steps into the room, and Oikawa closes the door behind them. Ushijima looks around. The room is much smaller than he expected. Much of it is taken up by a long, rectangular table on which sits a number of laptops, desktops, and printers. There are also several bins filled with wires and various tools.

The walls are lined with shelves that hold more computers, a few small boxes of watches, and one printer. These electronics are labeled as “Repaired” and have a name on the bottom of each tag. Oikawa’s handwriting is on some of the tags.

Oikawa moves around Ushijima to reach a shelf in the middle of the room, from which he pulls out Ushijima’s laptop. “We really need a better system,” he mutters to himself as he clears a space for the laptop on the table. “The store is either crawling with customers, all demanding that we fix their stuff at the same time, or there’s no one, and Iwa-chan and I have to play cards to pass time like old men. What do you do for fun, Ushiwaka-chan? Besides watching videos of volleyball games.”

Ushijima takes a sip of coffee as he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he did anything just for fun. He was busy last week with his new classes, and he was preparing for the spring semester the week before that, and before that he was in Sendai with his mother and her parents for several weeks. That trip was anything but fun. He has never felt quite at home at his maternal grandfather’s house, under the watchful, disapproving eyes of the Ushijima clan.

“Just as I thought,” Oikawa says, opening the laptop. “You have no hobbies. I could tell as soon as you walked into the shop last Sunday. Anyway, your laptop is as good as new. I’ve replaced the logic board. It took hours, and I had a headache afterwards. You ought to feel honored that I put so much effort into it.”

“Any achievement is its own reward,” Ushijima says.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, continues, “You can pay me up front after you’ve inspected your laptop. There’s a thirty-day warranty, so you can bring it in if the same problem occurs again next month. Only thirty days, understand? No amount of persuading is going to get me to fix it after that.”

“Okay.” Ushijima nods.

He watches as Oikawa reaches into a compartment in the table and pulls out one end of a charger. As Oikawa plugs the charger into the laptop, his arm brushes against Ushijima’s left arm.

Ushijima looks at Oikawa’s blue sweater, stretched over his chest, and at the white collar folded neatly over the neckline. There are squares of light reflecting off of Oikawa’s glasses, and behind them, his brown eyes are warm and bright. His lips are a bit shiny at the center. Ushijima wonders what they would feel like against his own.

He says, “You were wrong, Oikawa. I do have hobbies. I…I like taking photos.”

“Oh?” Oikawa smiles. He puts one hand on his hip and makes a peace sign with his other hand. “Take a photo of me then. Go on. I’m surprised you didn’t take one before, like Mad Dog-chan did. Customers are always taking photos of me.” He sighs theatrically. “The burden of being beautiful, I suppose.”

“He said he wasn’t taking it for himself.”

“Well. Obviously he was taking it for someone else who greatly admires me. He already has a boyfriend, you know? I’m sure you don’t have that problem.”

“I only take photos with my digital camera. The photo quality is better.”

“Why do you need such high quality photos, Ushiwaka-chan? What do you do with them, hm?”

“I send them to my father. He lives in America.”

Oikawa crosses his arms over chest, frowning. Ushijima’s laptop has now reached the lock screen without restarting. Ushijima edges closer to Oikawa, who does not move away, and types in his password. When the home screen loads, he finds the Photos application and opens it.

The 304 photos he has taken in the past year and a half are still there. Rows upon rows depicting the sporting events he has gone to, his former apartment, his new one, new foods he has tried out, the parks he has visited in Tokyo, the beautiful trees in them. Oikawa glares at the screen.

“How typical of you,” he mutters. He clenches his hands. “What an upstanding son. A model citizen. You probably don’t even get yourself off at night.”

“I do.”

Abruptly, Oikawa closes the lid of the laptop, almost crushing Ushijima’s fingers. He turns around and picks up a repaired watch. He says, “Your tour of the workshop is now very much over, Ushiwaka-chan. Let’s go.”

Ushijima picks up his laptop and puts it under his arm. He follows Oikawa out of the room. It is colder in the front of the store and almost empty now.

Iwaizumi yells at Oikawa for taking such a long break. Oikawa laughs, places the watch on the counter, and makes flippant remarks as he rings up Ushijima’s repair bill on the register. Ushijima slides his credit card through the reader when he is told and then signs on the line.

Oikawa says, smiling in an overly polite manner, “Remember, it’s a thirty-day warranty, not thirty weeks or thirty years.”

“Alright.”

A family of five walks into the shop. Ushijima extends his hand so that Oikawa can give him a receipt.

Oikawa says, in a softer voice, “Also, we have a free gift with purchase for you. You, Ushiwaka-chan, can come into the store to discuss your lack of a social life with us for fifteen minutes. We might have a fix for you. The offer expires at the end of this year.”

Ushijima frowns. “I don’t have problems with my social life.”

Oikawa continues, “But, remember, we don’t fix broken hearts. We do, however, fix cameras sometimes.”

Iwaizumi says, “No we don’t.”

“Why not, Iwa-chan? We could expand our client base that way. I’ll ask Irihata-san when he comes in.”

“Whatever.” Iwaizumi glances at Ushijima. “Oi, Ushiwaka, you’re holding up the line.”

Oikawa holds out the receipt. After Ushijima takes it out of his hand, Oikawa says, “Let me know when you really want to improve the quality of your photos. I might have a few ideas. You have my card, right?”

“Yes,” Ushijima says.

He leaves the shop. When he reaches the chalkboard, he looks back once. He can see Oikawa through the windows. He isn’t one hundred percent certain, but it seems like Oikawa is looking in his direction. And he had said “my card” instead of “the store’s card.” Maybe, Ushijima thinks as he walks on, Oikawa is as interested in him as he is in Oikawa.

The thought makes him feel strange inside, a bit tense, and warm, makes him think that anything is possible, that there is more to life than fulfilling expectations and finding success and following routines. He holds his repaired laptop closer to his heart. When he returns to his apartment, he pulls Oikawa’s card out of his desk drawer and puts it on the windowsill, between his green shiso and his gardenia bonsai.

***

The laptop is working smoothly. In fact, it seems faster than before. Ushijima is a bit disappointed. It is easier to visit the repair shop with a broken laptop than to call Oikawa and try to talk about photos.

Tendou – who is nosy, has seen Oikawa’s card, and drawn his own conclusions – offers to smash up the screen so that Ushijima can take it in for repairs. As a less extreme alternative, he offers to pour some water on the keyboard. When Ushijima declines both offers, he asks, “How long are you going to wait around for your crush to make the first move, Wakatoshi-kun?”

Ushijima spends a few days thinking about Tendou’s words. The most effective way to deal with a “crush,” he decides, is to ask the person out on a date. The person will either agree, thus starting the relationship, or decline, putting an end to the romance. The only thing he has to do is to call Oikawa and ask.

Two weeks and six days after getting his laptop back, he calls the shop. When Oikawa answers after one ring, Ushijima almost hangs up. But then he steels himself and asks, “Oikawa, would you like to have lunch together tomorrow?”

“No,” Oikawa replies.

“Oh.” Ushijima drops the card into his wastebasket. “Okay.”

“But I want to see your camera. Where do you live? I don’t do house calls, but I can make an exception for you if you do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“So suspicious! Not to worry, Ushiwaka-chan, you’ll like it.”

Ushijima can almost hear Oikawa smiling. He says, “Alright.”

Oikawa asks Ushijima to text the address to his cell phone, rattles off a number, and then offers to visit the next morning. Again, Ushijima agrees. Oikawa hangs up, and Ushijima reaches into the wastebasket to pull the card out.

***

To prepare for Oikawa’s visit, Ushijima cleans the kitchen area of his apartment, the floor, and bathroom. He fluffs the pillow on the armchair, puts Oikawa’s card back into the desk drawer, and, on Sunday morning, makes a simple but nutritious breakfast for two. He has just finished laying the breakfast out on his small round table when he hears the doorbell ring. He spritzes water onto the violets he has placed in a vase at the center of the table, and then he opens the door.

Oikawa says, “Good morning,” his nose wrinkled a bit, and walks into the apartment.

He is more dressed up than Ushijima was expecting. Slacks instead of jeans, a preppy sweater, a scarf tied neatly around his neck. His hair looks shinier than usual. Ushijima rolls the sleeves of his sweatshirt down.

“Would you like to have breakfast?” he asks.

“No, but you can make me a cup of coffee,” Oikawa replies as he takes his shoes off.

He slides his feet into the house slippers Ushijima keeps for guests. When he looks up, and notices the table, his eyes widen. Ushijima lingers by the front door, uncertain.

Oikawa says, “Really? Did you think this was a date or something?”

“No,” Ushijima says. “I did ask you out for a lunch date, but you declined. The breakfast is a common courtesy because you are my guest who has come to my apartment at the time I eat breakfast on the weekends.”

“Ah.” Oikawa walks over to the table. He picks up the vase and sniffs the violets. “It would be rude to refuse in that case, wouldn’t it?”

While Ushijima makes coffee, Oikawa helps himself to everything on the table without restraint and polishes off almost the entire platter of rice. He also drinks about half the jug of milk. Ushijima asks, afterwards, placing a mug of coffee in front of Oikawa, “Do you play sports at your university?”

“No.” Oikawa smiles, wide and fake. “But I did play on a team, once upon a time. What gave it away? How fast I eat? Do want to hear the tragic tale?”

“Which sport was it?” Ushijima sits across from him.

Their legs are almost touching underneath the table. Oikawa does not move them away. He is not smiling anymore either.

“Volleyball.”

Ushijima says, “What team did you play for? I never heard of you.”

“Of course you didn’t. I wasn’t living in Japan at that time.” Oikawa sips his coffee a few times. “I moved to America with my parents when I was ten. I was a setter up until my last match as a high school senior. Then. A busted right knee. Moving back for university. Computer engineering major. Part-time job. Sad and boring, isn’t it?”

“It’s not uncommon.”

Oikawa leans closer to Ushijima, squinting. When he opens his mouth, his breath touches Ushijima’s nose. It takes a moment for Ushijima to understand what Oikawa is saying, which turns out to be, “You’re a very cold person, aren’t you, Ushiwaka-chan? Do you feel emotions like doubt, frustration, and anger, so much anger all you can see is red?”

Ushijima replies, “A mature person knows how to control those emotions.”

“Who told you that?”

He stands up. “My camera is on the desk,” he says.

He walks over to his Nikon and fiddles with it for a while, trying to figure out how he feels. Oikawa’s intrusive questions were uncalled for. Ushijima does not want to think about the past, how frustrating it was to quit volleyball, how it made him feel like he was disappointing his father. He works hard to be content with his current situation, and Oikawa is not making it easy.

In fact, Oikawa is an immature and rude person. He has been from their first meeting at the shop. He is always so excessive in everything. And he has a special talent for reading people. It is unnerving. Ushijima considers asking him to leave.

“Thanks for the meal,” Oikawa says, getting up.

“You’re welcome.”

Oikawa picks up the framed photograph of Father on Ushijima’s desk, looks at it for a long moment, and then he walks over to the windows. He inspects the plants. He says, “Your plants are cute. Very healthy looking too.”

“Thank you,” Ushijima says. He turns the camera on. “I’m sorry about your knee.”

“It’s not completely useless. I still play volleyball with friends at the recreation center. The one near the repair shop. You must have seen it.”

Ushijima holds the camera out to Oikawa. “What ideas did you have?” he asks.

“Oh that.” Oikawa turns around, smiling once more. “You should take a photo of me and send it to your father. So that he thinks that you’ve made a new handsome and talented friend. We’re not really friends, of course, but there’s no harm in him thinking that.”

“How is he going to know that you’re talented by looking at a photo?”

“Aw, so you think I’m handsome, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Ushijima holds the camera up to his eye. Before he can take a photo, however, Oikawa throws up his hands, saying, “No, no, wait! I’ve changed my mind.”

Then he grabs the camera. “Where’s the timer?” he mutters. He switches the dial to the timer function.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima says.

“Forget it.” Oikawa places the camera on the desk and picks up Ushijima’s cell phone. “We’ll do it this way. Here, come closer to the window.”

There isn’t much space for two people to stand next to each other by the window. Ushijima has to lean against the armchair, and Oikawa squeezes in next to him, holding the phone up in front of them.

“Try to look like you’re having fun, Ushiwaka-chan,” he says, beaming at the phone.

Ushijima looks at his solemn face in the rectangular frame. He thinks of his father’s kind smiles. He tries to smile.

Oikawa turns towards him and says, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that you owe me a favor.”

“I haven’t,” Ushijima replies. “What’s the favor?”

“I need a wing-spiker for an upcoming volleyball game. Don’t worry, it’s only a casual match against some friends at the rec center. But I need to win. You think you can help me win?”

Ushijima has barely finished saying “yes” when Oikawa puts an arm around his shoulders and takes a photo.

***

The match is on Saturday night. Ushijima prepares for it all week, in between classes and assignments. He is out of shape, but an hour before the game, after he has returned to his apartment after a run and taken a shower, he feels good.

He is stuffing a pair of volleyball shorts and a jersey into his gym bag when the doorbell rings. Thinking that it might be Tendou, he goes to the door without putting his T-shirt on, a towel still slung over one shoulder. He opens the door while rubbing the last of the water out of his hair with the towel.

Oikawa is standing on the veranda.

Ushijima stares. Oikawa raises his eyebrows. He looks at Ushijima’s chest and then lower, at his abs. Ushijima tries not to blush.

After an awkward pause, Oikawa says, “Nice to see that you’re taking this seriously, Ushiwaka-chan. We have to win. I’ll be counting on you.”

“You can count on me,” Ushijima replies. Then he remembers to invite Oikawa in.

Oikawa walks inside and drops his gym bag next to the shoe rack. He is nosier today, touching almost everything that interests him as Ushijima finishes dressing and packing.

He is about to brush his hair when Oikawa says, “Here, let me.”

Oikawa takes the brush and puts it on the desk. Then he runs his fingers through Ushijima’s hair, once, twice. Slowly, the third time. His touch is soothing. Ushijima closes his eyes.

“Hey,” Oikawa says, quietly, “you can’t fall asleep now.”

He puts a hand on the back of Ushijima’s head. Ushijima opens his eyes. Oikawa guides his head down and kisses him on the lips.

“To keep you awake,” Oikawa murmurs against his mouth.

Ushijima cups Oikawa’s face in his hands and kisses him back, carefully, tasting the sweetness of Oikawa’s lip balm, feeling the softness of his lips. He moves his hands up, until the tips of his fingers are in Oikawa’s thick hair.

When he stops to breathe, Oikawa says, “What was that for?” Not in a hostile way though, not like he is angry.

Ushijima considers saying “I like you.”

But that can come later. He asks instead, “Why? Did you like it?”

Oikawa crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow. He is smiling a second later, as he asks, “Where did you learn to talk like that, Ushiwaka-chan?”

He goes back to the front door and picks up his bag. Ushijima follows.

They walk in companionable silence outside, up the block, moving closer together whenever there is a particularly large crowd. At the crosswalk, Oikawa puts a hand on Ushijima’s elbow, briefly. When Ushijima looks at him, Oikawa sticks his tongue out. “You’re really something else, Ushiwaka-chan,” he says.

“You can call me Wakatoshi,” Ushijima says.

“We’ll see. Come on, we’re going to pick up Iwa-chan from the shop.”

When they reach Irihata Electronics, Ushijima looks at the chalkboard again. The third line has been erased properly. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, Ushijima thinks, glancing at Oikawa. He didn’t have a broken heart before, but he has felt better since he took his laptop in to be repaired. He can’t quite describe it. Perhaps like a plant feels after a repotting, after settling into a new, more fertile soil.

“My father liked the photo you took of us, Oikawa,” he says. “He said that I looked happy.”

Oikawa grins. “What did I tell you? You can take more after we win tonight’s match.”

Ushijima nods, and Oikawa, after looking through the windows, says, “You want to wait inside? Iwa-chan is in the backroom. I’m going to go call him.”

“Alright,” Ushijima says.

“Come inside then,” Oikawa says, and he pulls Ushijima into the shop.