For Ushijima, it had always been simple: volleyball, family, team, you. The order shifted sometimes, but you were always on the list. His best friend since high school, the one he trusted enough to see him outside of practice, the one he quietly let into the parts of his life most people never touched. He thought it was obvious, how important you were to him. But when he finally told Tendō, he realized he had never said it out loud.

“I like someone,” he said plainly one evening, when Tendō called just to pester him about practice drills.

There was a long pause. “...EXCUSE ME?” Tendō practically shrieked through the phone. “You? Mr. Stoic, Mr. Volleyball Machine, Mr. ‘I Only Care About Spike Accuracy’? You like someone? And you’re telling me this now? After, what, years of knowing each other?”

Ushijima blinked, holding the phone a little farther from his ear. “Yes.”

“Who is it?” Tendō demanded, his tone equal parts betrayal and glee. “Wait—don’t tell me it’s someone new. No, no, this feels old. This feels like a long game crush. Oh my god, how long has this been going on?”

There was a beat of silence before Ushijima answered. “Since high school.”

“SINCE HIGH SCHOOL?” Tendō’s laughter came loud and sharp. “And you’re just telling me now? Wakatoshi, this is criminal. Who is this saint who put up with your bluntness and scary face all these years? Do they even know you’re in love with them?”

“They are my best friend,” Ushijima said simply. “They don’t know.”

Tendō groaned dramatically. “Unbelievable. You’ve been watching boyfriends come and go for years, haven’t you? Just lurking in the background like a loyal guard dog while they cry on your shoulder. Classic Doberman.” He paused, then added gleefully, “This is amazing. This is delicious. So what’s the plan, loverboy?”

“I don’t have one,” Ushijima admitted, his voice calm, but his hands tightening slightly on the phone.

“Well, you do now,” Tendō declared. “You’re confessing. No more waiting for tomorrow, or the day after. You’re strong enough to smash a ball through the floor, Wakatoshi—you can handle telling your best friend you love them. And if you don’t, I swear I will fly over there and do it for you.”

Ushijima said nothing for a moment, but in his chest, something heavy shifted. He wasn’t afraid of many things, but this? This was harder than any game. Still, Tendō was right—he couldn’t wait forever.

“...I will try,” he said at last.

Ushijima had always been steady in your life—your best friend since high school, the one constant presence even when everything else shifted. He had seen every boyfriend you ever dated, and though he never said much about them, he remembered them all: the one who was too loud, the one who didn’t last long, the one who left you crying on his shoulder. He never gave opinions unless you asked, and even then, his words were short and to the point. “He doesn’t seem serious.” Or “You deserve someone who stays.” Always steady, always honest.

Tonight was different, though. You were laughing about something trivial, sitting across from him in your usual café spot, while he stirred his drink far longer than necessary. His teammates would have teased him mercilessly if they saw the way he was acting—overthinking, of all things. He had decided today would be the day. The day he’d finally say it. Not just the usual “I’ll always be here” kind of loyalty, but the truth that had been growing in him for years. The truth that every time one of your relationships failed, a quiet, selfish part of him was relieved because it meant he could still stay by your side.

But as you leaned forward, eyes bright, telling him about some coworker drama, his chest tightened. How could he even begin? Words were never his strength. His mind searched for the right phrase, but everything sounded wrong—too clumsy, too heavy, too final. Ushijima wasn’t afraid of many things, but the thought of ruining this—ruining you—made his throat close. Instead, he did what he always did: he listened. He nodded at the right moments. He handed you his jacket when you shivered.