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It was love at first sight.
“Do you know what koi no yokan is?” you had asked him one day, drumming your fingers along the seam of the volleyball. The white string held the leather taut and strong, sturdy enough to handle monster serves and gentle sets.
You glanced up at him and reveled in his presence. Wakatoshi had these warm, honeyed eyes that didn’t quite match his constantly stony expression. His lips were permanently set into a slight frown and his large body often intimidated people smaller or younger than him.
“Hm.” he said, wiping a towel across his sweaty brow. “It sounds similar to the lecture we had on concepts. Perhaps you heard it there.”
You nodded, letting your head rest on the volleyball to look at Wakatoshi. “I think so. Do you know the meaning of it?”
He shook his head.
“C’mon, Waka-chan . You gotta pay attention in class.” you teased him, eyes glimmering with mirth. “You might be here on a sports scholarship, but Shiratorizawa isn’t kind to those with subpar grades.”
He glanced at you, stony eyebrow raising. “My grades are substantial, thanks to your tutoring.” Taking the volleyball from your hands, he let it spin in his palms. His large, calloused palms.
“Just teasing.” you smiled. “Do you want to hear the meaning now?”
“Of what?”
“Koi no yokan.”
His shoulders shrugged. “Sure.”
You always loved the way his body moved. Not in the strange perverted way, but the way his body just flowed into movement. It looked natural. His posture was rigid and his steps were confident. He moved as if he knew there would be a ground beneath him to hold him up. His arms swayed close to his body, as to preserve his soul in a warm embrace.
You wanted to hold his soul. You imagined it would be big and warm, much like Waka-chan. It would have a stable flame, flickering out ever so slightly. Even in the most torrential of downpours or loud of lightning, the fire wouldn’t go out.
You wanted to preserve this warmth. It was selfish of you, but there wasn’t anything else you desired. Just to hold his soul and see his magic.
“It’s supposed to be a sensation. Y’know, a feeling!” you enthused, taking out one of your flashcards. The sides were slightly worn down. “It’s a feeling that you, or someone, will fall in love with a person soon.”
“Ah.” his voice was quiet. “Would love at first sight be a good comparison?”
You fumbled with your flashcards, flipping the most worn one forward. “I don’t think so. Love at first sight isn’t vague, at least that’s what I think. Love at first sight is more certain. Like you fall so deeply in love with them when you meet them.”
You passed a flashcard to Wakatoshi, tapping the scrawled handwriting on the back. “See? Koi no yokan is knowing that you will fall in love with them at some point. It doesn’t have to be loud and intense like love at first sight.”
His eyes glinted in the sunlight. “Give me an example.”
You blanked. “Uh,” you said intelligently.
“Uh.” he parroted, looking at you.
“For love at first sight…?” you trailed off, racking your brain. “I guess it would feel super strong. And instant. Like if someone saw you and asked you to marry them on the spot. Or immediately deciding they want to date you. Or…”
He nodded.
“It would be like… if I did this.” you mumbled.
Slowly, with a quiet confidence, you took Wakatoshi’s hands from the volleyball. You unlatched his calloused palm from the leather, watching as the indents faded. His fingers were really warm. And he smelt good. Sandalwood, you guessed.
Your eyes met, and for a second, you thought you saw God. Or whatever holy deity up there. His eyes were usually soft and malleable, but right now, they were fiery. They were burning, scorching the skin off your flesh. They melted you to a puddle. An ooey gooey puddle.
His hands were big. You had always noticed that before, but now, they were especially large. They practically dwarfed yours. His palm was dotted with calluses and cracked skin. You ran your fingers over the lesions, committing the unique texture to memory. These hands smacked, slammed and served the volleyball he held so dear. Dearer than you, perhaps.
You hoped that Wakatoshi would curate his own kind of magic. He was a one-in-a-million kind of child. You prayed that he would grow further than Shiratorizawa, further than the world would ever comprehend. Maybe he would reach into the atmosphere and rearrange all the stars in the sky. He would leave more holes in the moon. He’d serve the moon and watch the light bounce off the surface. Constellations would be his to mold and shape.
You hoped to be by his side long enough to watch those miracles. You wanted to see the Little and Big Dipper annihilated. You wanted to hold Orion’s Belt in your own hands. You wanted to see him take the world by storm.
You wondered if Wakatoshi had experienced his own koi no yokan. If he had ever had his world flipped upside down, invaded by the immature and adolescent feelings of love. Love that would root itself in his heart, tendrils dragging over the organ. Vena cava, aorta, pulmonary vein…
Volleyball, you mused. The sport had held such a tight grip on his very being. You had no doubt it was volleyball. But if it was, you’d say it was love at first sight. Not koi no yokan . It wasn’t subtle or fleeting. It was a wave of feelings that you would never experience. Only he would feel.
It was a dumb hope of yours that you would remain in his big, ever changing world. You wanted to stay by his side and cling to his greatness. His coattails would become your home. Perhaps you yearned for the dwarf planet Pluto, something that garnered a bright light only when it was gone.
Perhaps you wanted to go out with a big bang.
Ah, you thought glumly. I want to be Ursa Major.
But right now, you were okay with being Ursa Minor.
“I love you, Wakatoshi.” you said, very simply. “I love you. I love you as the stars love the moon. I love you as Spica loves the Maiden. I love you as Mr. Darcy loves Elizabeth Bennett. I love you for the dangers you have, and I love you as you did pity them.”
You swallowed nervously. “I love you most ardently. I love you most disinterestedly.”
I love you.
A small chuckle rumbled from Wakatoshi’s chest.
“Sadness is the only thing I have ever been able to speak with, and with it I communicate perfectly.” he echoed your own sentiment, humoring you. “You made a lot of literary allusions. I enjoyed it.”
You nodded fervently. “ Koi no yokan makes me do a lot of strange things.”
“It does.” he agreed.
You were okay with that.