Chapter Text
The sunlight penetrates the framed window and lands on their table. The café is silent in the afternoons during weekdays— the aroma of coffee dominates the atmosphere, creating a comfortable ambiance which, however, is not strong enough to overpower the thick tension growing between the two micro-celebrities.
“Please?” Kenma groans, “I’ll get you whatever you want, it’s just one date.”
Yaku leans in closer, resting his hands on the table. “Do you even know how ridiculous you sound right now?”, he seethes.
As much as Yaku would like to pretend to receive a fake phone-call that would conveniently require his presence this instance and leave the streamer be, he couldn’t help but sympathize with him; suddenly being forced on a date just because you’re ‘almost at the age to settle down’ is one pain-in-the-ass. He would know that best.
He couldn’t even believe the logic of Kenma’s absurdly rich parents, not to mention, he’s only twenty-four. Who even settles down at twenty-four in this economy?
The younger guy fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, occasionally checking up on Yaku’s change of expressions. “…I’m really sorry, Yaku-san. You know I really don’t have enough…single friends to rely on, plus you’ve done it once before, so I thought I could probably trust you again.”
He’s right. Yaku had done Kenma this same favor a year ago. Back then, it was a wealthy girl who seemed to be a few years older than Kenma. Of course, not that Kenma actually went there to meet her. The all-sacrificing Yaku-san himself had to wear a disguise, come up with a fake name and, politely put, scare away the poor girl.
She had a nice face and a good fashion sense, Yaku had thought back then. The only problem, he assumed, was that Kenma didn’t particularly like girls. Thankfully, he did come out recently this year, and his parents were accepting.
In fact, they were too accepting, a suspicious amount of ‘accepting’ for two wealthy adults who believed in traditional formalities, but it did make sense now.
Yaku sighs and flips through the papers Kenma’s parents had organized about his date. The first thing he notices is how crazy tall this guy is. He looks at Kenma skeptically.
“6 foot 5? Did he think you were born yesterday?”, he shakes his head as Kenma accompanies him with a small, breathy laugh.
“Most guys who said that to me in the past turned out to be around 5 foot 10, at most”, Kenma points out, “Oh, skip all that, those are just family details and nothing important.”
When Yaku gets to the last page, he stares at the texts before fully registering them. He looks up at Kenma.
“A model? They’re making you date a model who- not to mention, this dude is definitely younger than you…” the athlete tries his best not to look disgusted, “A pretty-face wasian? Kenma, did your parents even try?” He says a little too loud. The easily-scared blonde cashier sends him a concerned look.
If it wasn’t obvious enough, Kenma had expressed about not liking younger guys, and that he would never date a big celebrity. The life of a popular streamer was already hard to tackle, he said. Yaku glances at the papers again with a bored expression.
“He has a nice face though.”
“You say that about all my dates.”
Yaku sits up straight-backed, sliding the papers back to Kenma. “Well, it is obvious that most of your dates are for financial reasons though. The last girl was the heir of some technology start-up, wasn’t she?”
Kenma nods, shoving the papers back into his bag. That’s probably the last time he’ll ever read it again. “It’s a good thing other parents aren’t stalkers like mine. I’m sure it’ll be just like last time. He won’t know my face, just my age and job probably.” He looks at Yaku with a solemn expression.
Yaku gives in too easily, really.
⋆
He finds himself shopping for a new wig and hideous clothes the next day. Of course, he had to bring Kai along. “Seriously Yaku, I don’t get it. Why am I even here? And where’s Kuroo?” the poor guy frequently shoots awkward smiles at nearby shoppers alongside them, coming up with excuses each time Yaku enters the women’s section. Yaku has done this too many times to feel an ounce of shame.
“Emotional support, of course,” he replies, pulling out an XXL shirt with laces and trypophobia-inducing polka-dots. “Isn’t this perfect Kai? I look exactly like an opinionated gay dude who listens to that one ponytail girl from the states.” Kai squints at him, “I’m sure what you said was a bit… homophobic, but it’s genius since your goal is to scare away this date of yours.”
Yaku checks out, avoiding eye contact with the cashier who seems rightfully concerned. He would have to avoid coming to this mall and this store for at least 2 weeks, and this would also mean that any attractive women whose eyes fell victim to his shenanigans today would avoid him— so much for finding a date for himself soon.
He nudges Kai as he thanks the cashier who, as expected, did not reply back. “Kuroo resigned from the Japan volleyball association a while ago,” he feels his throat dry as he continues, “I just don’t get it. We’ve been friends for a long time, way before all these titles and professional relationships got in the way, and he just quits?” He tries to let out a laugh to diffuse some tension, “I don’t think I’m really ready to face him yet, that’s all.” Kai hums in understanding.
They let the loud music blasted from the mall speakers dominate their conversation for a while. Kai, like the reliable friend he is, knows exactly when to give Yaku space. The athlete runs his hand through the wigs to regain some composure through his tactile senses, attempting to remember the last time he had a real conversation with Kuroo.
Truthfully speaking, it isn’t that he wanted Kuroo to stay in the same profession as him, but just that he left so abruptly that nobody really had a chance to take it in. Bokuto, especially, did not take it well, and many who weren’t even close with Kuroo were surprised by his spontaneity. He doesn’t hate Kuroo, but he wonders if that feeling is mutual with his friend— he really doesn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he wonders if his ‘friend’ had slowly turned into somewhat just a co-worker as most of their interactions started to only situate inside the workplace.
He grabs the nearest wig and shoves it into the cart, making a teenage girl beside him flinch. He mutters an apology as he flees the scene.
“Well, all of this is certainly… a choice.” Kai shuffles through all of Yaku’s purchases as they sit on a bench outside the mall. He turns to Yaku with a knowing smirk, “This friend of yours is the one paying, isn’t he?”
“Obviously.”
⋆
Yaku checks himself out in the mirror one last time, trying to stifle a laugh. There is a zero-percentage chance of this fashionista model kid ever coming to find him attractive. He calls Kenma one last time before heading out to the destinated restaurant.
“I didn’t read anything more than his name and career, are there any pet peeves of his?”
Kenma goes quiet on the other side of the phone, “I do remember some. I studied it in case you backed out. I think… he doesn’t like it when people comment on his looks a lot.” He takes some time to think again. “Like if you were to say ‘oh, you really are attractive, it’s a shame you won’t have biological kids’… or something like that.”
Yaku clenches his jaw at that. “Doesn’t sound like something I should say, honestly, I’ll just figure something out along the way.” Kenma hums in response.
Yaku is definitely thinking of backing out now.
It’s only a few minutes before the guy arrives, but it only hits him now that he has never really went on a date with a dude, nor did he ever plan to. Great thinking. Shame decides that it’s finally time to concentrate his mind only now, making the athlete hyperaware of how the waiters and other guests stared at his strange wig and the awfully designed jeans with rips larger than the meteorites that killed his ancestors.
He considers leaving seriously. Surely, Kenma wouldn’t mind.
So he gets up, and immediately, the attention of the room shifts to the guest entering the restaurant. People whisper and stare at the man in awe, even the mood of the room now completely changed. He glances at the model’s face for the first time, holding up a hand as the older ladies at the table next to him gasp in shock. This man, he remembers from the report as Lev Haiba, was not here to joke around (especially when it comes to his height. This dude was REALLY over 6 foot tall). Suddenly, he wishes Kai came along with him for emotional support a second time.
It's awkward, really. Yaku can’t tell if the smile the latter is wearing on his face right now is one that is polished for the public, or a genuine one, though he doubts it’s the second. He mentally exhales, readying himself to scare the shit out of this poor guy.
“Listen up, pretty fac-” before he even finishes, the guy flinches.
“Ah- sorry.. I really wasn’t expecting your voice to be that deep! I just assumed…well.. from your fashion sense and all…”
Yaku stares down at his shirt which has an English quote imprinted on it in hot-pink cursives that goes along the lines of: LET’S SET SOMETHING STRAIGHT. I’M NOT! (He later had to google the meaning of it with Kai, but the shirt was not refundable). He notices himself getting redder the more he feels regret seeping into his righteous soul. Another reminder that he’s not really himself right now.
“…I get that a lot. Name’s Kenma Kozume, I’m sure you already know, but I stream often… games and all that.” Yaku isn’t one to play games during his free time (who even does that when you can just play more volleyball?), so he found himself studying the basics and the characters of the games that Kenma often streamed.
Lev’s eyes begin to sparkle at that. “I’m Lev Haiba! I’ve heard about you before, although I’ve never really watched your streams befo-”
“DON’T!”
Yaku’s warning terrorizes the entire building, the faint jazz music in the background fading into thin air. The flame of the candles placed at the equator of their dining table begin to weaken slightly with a startled Lev at the other end.
“Uh,” Yaku coughs to break through the sudden silence that falls into the room. “I mean, I just don’t. feel comfortable with people I know watching my streams. It’s a personal issue.” He eyes Lev slowly, worried that his bluntness would come off as cold, but then again, that is the goal.
Instead, he meets eye to eye with wide, green eyes in awe. Yaku swallows hard.
“I completely understand, Kozume-san!” He gleams at the athlete, “I think it’s very admirable that you have strong boundaries, and the way you set things straight is really cool!” The model continues to blabber about the traits of the so-called Kozume Kenma that he was introduced to just a few minutes ago.
While Lev continues to spew out nonsense, Yaku stirs up a quick plan that would guarantee him getting ditched while not ending up with a restraining order.
“Say…Haiba-kun…” He hates the way it rolls off his tongue. “You’re partly Russian right?”
The younger guy nods eagerly, attentively listening to what Yaku has to say. In a way, he feels bad for the sanity of this guy that he is about to completely demolish.
Yaku cracks his knuckles, throwing a deceptive smile at the latter.
“I’ve heard that mixed guys are really... big,” he leans forward, not breaking out of his façade a single bit.
Surely enough, Lev stares at him with an uncomfortable expression.
“Ahaha… come again?” He looks halfway-ready to get up and run as his slender fingers clutch onto the ends of the table.
Yaku smiles even more amicably, scooching forward the same amount that Lev backs away, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not the patient kind.”
The model furrows his eyebrows, but— to Yaku’s surprise— he moves back closer. “Hey… Kozume-san?”
“Yeah?”
“What… kind of a person are you?” He asks this hesitantly; Yaku notices his nerves from the way the latter tugs on his collar.
Yaku sits up straight. This has been the question he’s been waiting for.
“Listen carefully, Haiba-kun.” He exhales one last time.
“Ever since I was young, I’ve always, and I mean always, been into Russian guys. All my life, I’ve been dreaming about being a mobster husband— those ones with the biggest houses and the most luxury you could ever, ever brag about. I believe that’s clear from our financial status, yes?”
The model shifts uncomfortably, picking up a glass of water to appear less awkward. “Uhm…yes?”
Yaku smiles. “Not only that, but I actually have a side of masochism to me.”
Lev nearly spits out his drink back into the glass, coughing a few times before urgently grabbing the nearest tissue. He avoids eye contact with Yaku the whole time, muttering a ‘… sorry, go on’ while he attempts to regain his composure.
“That’s the best part about Russian guys like you, isn’t that right? I’d love to see you go completely nuts and tear me apart… honestly, I don’t even know if our bedroom activities would even turn me on more than-”
Lev quickly covers the athlete’s mouth with the both of his palms, looking the most flushed he’s ever been. “T- that’s enough…Kozume-san- AAGH!” Lev stands up abruptly from his seat as his chair screeches in agony. Everyone in the room turns to them. Lev looks at his palm, then at Yaku, then at his hand again as he wipes it on his pants. There goes his billion dollars pants, Yaku assumes.
The alarmed date of his looks at Yaku one last time, “You didn’t need to…lick my hands!” He says it in a hushed tone, but it’s obvious he intends to shout if they weren’t currently at the finest restaurants of Shibuya. He stops in his steps for a moment.
Yaku smirks at his victory.
“…Kozume-san. I need to use the restroom for a while.”
While the clearly-terrified model speed-walks to the restroom, Yaku pulls out his phone from a bag he borrowed from his kindergartener cousin.
“Yaku-san? Is it already over?” A familiar voice echoes into his ears. Kenma should honestly prepare his wallet for the way Yaku’s about to wreck it once he’s done with his job here.
“I totally creeped him out. Rich, pretty boys are the type to run at the smallest issue, I think we’re good,” Yaku proudly claims, looking too gleamed with joy to the extent that the same elderly ladies next to his table begin to give him the nastiest side eyes.
“Well… my reputation with the ladies is in hell right now, all thanks to my wacky outfit and act today, but it’s no big deal. Seriously, you should’ve seen the look on his face!”
A faint chuckle escapes from the other side of the line.
“Thank you again, Yaku-san. There’s really no one else who can scare off people better than you.” The athlete feels as if there’s something off about that compliment, but he takes it anyway. He glances at the restroom for a split second, noticing a lean shadow take place. “I think he’s back, I’ll wrap this up quickly.”
“Good luck on-” was the last thing he heard from Kenma before he shoves his phone back into the waterproof children’s bag of his, decorated with eerie walking apples (there’s a reason he always avoids that cousin during gatherings).
“How was your shit, Haiba-kun?” He asks a little too loudly, making a couple beside them pause. Lev slightly bows as a form of apology towards them, then glares back at Yaku again.
“Let’s end our date here, Kozume-san. I’ll escort you to your car.”
“That’s fine. I came with a unicycle.”
“Okay. Unicycle then!” Lev gives out his hand, though his expression says otherwise. Yaku does not take his hand and instead jumps out of the chair. He might as well have fun if this night’s ending.
The shades of purple in the sky blend perfectly with the pale blue of the moonlight, creating a scenery that almost looks like a nebula up-close. Too bad Yaku can’t fully take in the beauty of it tonight, considering he never even learnt how to ride a unicycle. Most likely because he came across a garage sale while driving to the date, and one thing led to another.
He grips onto the handles of ‘his’ unicycle, looking back at Lev with a grimacing smile. “I had a great time today, Haiba-kun. It’s really unfortunate you don’t match my freak.” Truth be told, he heard his highschooler brother say it one time and thought it was the most horrific thing he has ever heard in a while… so of course he had to say it to Lev before they part ways.
“Right…” The model walks up closer to Yaku, slowly, almost like a hunter attempting to be cautious with a wild animal. “Me too, I had a great time too!”
Yaku scoffs, “that’s just unfortunate, Haib- wait what?”
Lev suddenly holds the athlete’s hands up to his mouth, “I’m saying you’re interesting, Kozume-san. I want to go on a second date,” he says as he kisses Yaku’s hands. It only takes a millisecond before Yaku retrieves them back.
Out of habit, he immediately wipes it off on his shirt, still attempting to give a real smile that doesn’t look like it has kill-counts. “Isn’t that…just great for the both of us?” he grits his teeth as he continues to grin.
Lev smiles, genuinely, for the first time. Yaku almost thinks he could stare at it forever, but it wouldn’t be an exaggeration— only a matter of time before this pretty face is plastered all around Tokyo. “Okay, that’s great. Let’s exchange contact infos then!”
While this entire monstrosity carried out, Yaku stays half-conscious to nod a few times and reply here and there in the conversation. Then, he literally has to pretend to be able to ride this damn unicycle as Lev waves him off.
He paddles to the nearest blind spot and dials Kenma’s number again.
“I hope you’ll go easy on me with the spendings,” Kenma sighs, but the relief is evident in his tone. Yaku hates to break it to him.
“Kenma,” he breathes.
“Yes?”
“…Do you know I can ride a unicycle? Despite having zero experience?”
“…Sorry, what?”
“He wants a second date.”
Kenma pauses, and orchestra of the crickets in the trees that surround Yaku takes over the dead silence. Yaku sighs loudly, reasonably so from the pent-up sighs from a few minutes ago.
“Is he fucking crazy?” Yaku imagines Kenma with the same look on his face that he wears when he can’t beat a boss in a game.
“I… no. Let’s meet soon. I’m really worn out today.”
Kenma hums in response. Yaku hangs up and immediately snatches his blue wig out of his head. Who in the right mind falls for a masochistic streamer with…neon blue hair? Fucking weirdo.
A notification pops up on his phone screen: Kenma confirming the time and location for tomorrow’s…discussion. Then, another notification appears. ‘Lev Haiba’ asking him whether he prefers quiet or crowded places for their next date. Yaku wants to literally throw his phone.
⋆
He barely remembers how he made it to bed the next morning. His digital clock clearly shows 9 AM, but he feels as if he’s experiencing a hangover. Just in time to irritate him even further, his phone rings. He sloppily reaches over to it just to slip out of his bed.
“…Hello?”
“Yaku! Who would have expected that you’re still out of it at a time like this? Shouldn’t professional volleyball players stay productive and wake up early to get ahead of the game-” All that blabber says enough about who this is: his team manager. She isn’t a big fan of any of the members, rightfully just someone who does her job and clocks out once it’s over. Still, she does nag a lot.
He could barely register what was happening to him until he got dressed up and saw her face the moment he opened his door.
⋆
Apparently, there are bigger things to worry about than accidentally scoring a date with a sadistic male model who doesn’t even know his real identity. He sends a quick apology to Kenma saying he can’t make it today.
His manager, Sizi, pushes him into the elevator of the building — she has not once asked for his consent.
He would’ve said no, obviously. Who agrees to a Calv1n Kle1n photoshoot campaign at 9 in the morning? He has never even been on a photoshoot his entire life, so why this large brand? And why him?
That part is obvious. He’s been scouted for the Japan national volleyball team, and his height painfully sticks out. They want him for diversity and to have more chances with other far more popular volleyball players in the future.
He’s never been one to be proud of his looks which is not even a factor to be considered when it comes to volleyball, but, suddenly, he feels conscious of it.
“You’ll be shooting with an upcoming model. I heard he’s hot,” Sizi manages, although Yaku’s not sure how that would help him calm down. “Oh right, it’s not you who likes guys. My bad.”
The libero doesn’t even get a chance to react before he gets shoved out of the elevator. He feels nauseous all of a sudden.
“Sizi, I know you never asked, but I changed my mind,” he starts slowly and quietly as they walk into a large room that embodied capitalism to its fullest.
“Hold that though for a while Yaku, I think we’re lost.”
They do manage to find their way eventually, his manager immediately rushing to greet the supervisors in charge of the shoot and the designers of the new clothes. “We’re honoured to have the both of you here. Thank you again, Yaku-san, for agreeing to this shoot!” Yaku awkwardly nods back, sitting at the most corner seat. He considers leaving, this time literally, because what if they ask for a second shoot?
He gets reminded of last night and feels like absolute crap again. He has to apologize to Kenma somehow as well.
The glass door to their room swings open, and Yaku spins his office chair around to see the supposed partner he’s supposed to shoot with.
“Sorry I’m late! I had a rough night!”
‘Shit’ is the first and last thought that Yaku is able to form as he looks up at the familiar face with striking green eyes and grey hair.
He subtly nudges his manager. She glances at him for a split second in response.
“Cancel the shoot right fucking now.”