Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Daichi’s alarm goes off at precisely 5:00 AM every morning.

Occasionally, he’s tempted to sleep in just a little bit later, and the dark and cold winter morning doesn’t make it any easier to crawl out of his warm and comfortable bed. However, he can’t just lie around if he wanted to get his workout in, and be washed and dressed and out the door to catch the early train before it got too crowded in the Tokyo Metropolitan area.

Dragging himself out of bed, Daichi goes to the bathroom to do his morning ablutions, before dressing warmly in some workout clothes to go outside for his daily jog. The air is crisp and clear, despite being in the city, and Daichi lets out little huffs of white fog as he runs through the slowly waking city.

Muscles pleasantly aching from his run, Daichi heads back to his apartment to brew himself some coffee. As it drips, he shakes into his palm the plethora of vitamins and hormones he religiously takes. With a single, well-practiced swallow, he downs them all, before reaching to pour himself a mug of coffee to chase away the synthetic taste. Finished with that, he pads into the bathroom to shower.

Undressing, Daichi makes the mistake of meeting his own eyes in the mirror, making him pause to look at himself more closely: dark circles under his eyes, wan skin, and a solemn gaze. Although Daichi had never considered himself handsome or particularly eye-catching, he still can’t help the feeling of dismay at how tired and gloomy he looks.

Looking down, critical eyes sweep over the hard lines of his body. His lips thin at the sight—none of the slender and willowy limbs that usually denoted a graceful omega, but instead a thick and overly-muscled frame is reflected in the glass. Sometimes—just sometimes, he wishes that he had a bit of that grace—that winsome appeal, but as soon as he thinks that, he immediately presses it down, chiding himself for the vain thought. After all, what use did a person like him have for grace?

Still, Daichi thinks. It isn’t so bad—having a body that is sturdy and strong and capable of protecting others. He should content himself with what he has. But then his eyes trail over to his arm—to the brownish non-color of dead blooms trailing up his arm. Jerking his gaze away, he hurries to shower and then dress.

It’s almost a ritual: pulling the compression sleeve up his arm to hide his garden, applying the scent blocking patches, and then finally buttoning his shirt up, hiding everything from sight. It’s only once he’s done metaphorically armoring up, that he finally has the courage to check his appearance again in the mirror. An everyday (and most of all, ordinary) police officer looks back at him. He slowly raises the corners of his mouth into a smile, giving a satisfied nod when it finally looks genuine. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch, he heads out the door.

It’s a new day after all.

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There’s a power in names. After all, in this world where every child is born with a bud on their arm, symbols run deep. As they grow and form connections with others, so too does this bud grow, sprouting flowers when they form strong and pure emotions for others, and likewise, flowers sprout based on the emotions from those closest to you, intertwining with each other to form a living garden of meaning and sentiment. Daichi used to love his name—it means ‘earth,’ and what better foundation for a beautiful garden than being the earth on which it grows? After years of heartbreak, he wonders if his name was just another one of the cruel tricks fate has played on him.

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Growing up, Daichi is a gentle and happy child, more prone to smiles and laughter, and preferring harmony over conflict. His father bemoans his ‘omega-like softness,’ while his mother just pats his head indulgently, telling him he’ll grow out of it—after all, ‘her Daichi is too brave to become an omega.’ Daichi doesn’t quite understand why it is that everyone seems to want him to ‘be more aggressive,’ to ‘always be the winner,’ and he tries—he really does, but he can never seem to bring himself to care enough to be angry when another kid is a bit too pushy, or to win at any cost when playing with the others. After all, as long as everyone else is happy, he doesn’t see any need to fight.

Then Daichi becomes an older brother. When he meets the Yuta and Yuka for the first time, he knows with a certainty down to his soul that he needs to protect them. Needs to keep them safe and warm and cared for. And, as if in response to those needs, that aggressive drive he’d never seemed able to access before, no matter how hard he was pushed, finally comes bursting forth. Daichi becomes less prone to peacefully letting things go—actually starts hitting back and refusing to back down. Becomes the leader of the kids around the neighborhood as well as in his own class.

His parents are, of course, delighted at this. They praise him every time he protects the twins or brings back another perfect test paper or medal. Everyone seems sure he’s a baby alpha, just waiting to present, and Daichi lets himself bask in that security—in his parents’ praises and the twins’ adoration, and returning it with all of the love in his heart. His garden already shows the beginnings of a vibrant paradise: adoring sunflowers from his siblings gracing his arm alongside the proud lilacs from his parents, all intertwining beautifully alongside his own bloomed bud—a cluster of loving white camellias and pink verbena. He’s sure that his garden will only grow more and more beautiful, and knows that once he presents as an alpha, he’ll be able to use that status to protect his family even better.

________________________________________________________________

Daichi isn’t an alpha.

He isn’t even a beta.

At least that, while it would have been a disappointment, would have been bearable.

Daichi feels sick—heart in his throat as panicked thoughts race through his mind. There’s no way he could be an omega—if he is, how would he ever be able to protect the twins? How can he bear to face his parents when everyone has already expected that he would be an alpha? He has to be an alpha. There is no other choice for him. Viciously biting his lip to hold back the sobs that want to burst forth, (alphas don’t cry—they have to be strong) he burrows deeper in the back of his closet, the small space filled with the scent of his own slick and musk. Both that and the way this pseudo-heat is nearly overwhelming him force him to acknowledge the truth.

He’s an omega.

He’s an omega, and he’s terrified, because he has no idea what this means for him.

Daichi doesn’t know how long he stays, huddled in that closet, choking back sobs as he nearly shakes apart. However, his spiraling thoughts are cut short when the closet door is flung open. He squints tearily at the light flooding into the darkened space, his vision just clear enough to see the look of angry betrayal from his mother. That alone is enough to send him scrambling further back into the closet. Despite his efforts, she reaches in and grabs him, his eyes watering even more when her hands find purchase in his hair, dragging him forward. Even though pain shrieks through his scalp and neck as his head is mercilessly wrenched to the side, Daichi doesn’t even attempt to fight against his mother’s grip as he’s dragged out and dropped against the floor—released as if he were some repulsive thing. He raises his eyes, freezing when he meets his father’s gaze—the disgust in them leaving him breathless.

A bottle of pills and a small box are tossed in front of him.

“You’re a beta from now on.” Daichi nods his head numbly, murmuring that he understands, because what else can he say? He’s already disappointed his family so much—he needs to do something—anything to make up for it.

His mother steps forward, thrusting a bundle of cloth into his hands, and he takes it hesitantly. Unsure of what to do with it, he looks hesitantly at her.

She looks at him as if he’s an idiot, before explaining. “You’ll need to wrap your arm from now on.”

He stares, confused, his scalp and neck twinging in pain while his body trembles—still so overheated. All he wants is for his parents to tell him that it’d be alright—to hold him close and comfort him. Instead, his arm is grabbed harshly as his mother snatches the cloth out of his hands, winding it tightly around his left forearm. He bites his lip to stifle his instinctive yelp, not wanting to make her any angrier, still confused, until his gaze drops to his garden.

The lilacs. His parents’ flowers. Their colors had faded to a dirty brownish-gray—almost as if they were dying. And that’s when Daichi knows with painful clarity exactly what is happening. Whispers of Garden-killers—the Wilted, had always been spoken about in the playground like some sort of bogeyman. Not to let them touch you, lest they blight your own garden. People who were incapable of love and being loved.

And now he’s one of them.

He numbly sits there, watching the bandages wind around his arm, hiding the brittle-looking petals. Tries to ignore how he can see the pink petals of his own hydrangeas are fading, the death of one pair of blooms already killing the other.

He understands now. Of course he has to keep everything hidden. After all, he’s already disappointed his family—if he can’t be an alpha protector, he can at least help them pretend he’s not an omega—that he’s not some Wilted freak. Perhaps that will make up for the disappointment.

It’s difficult—pretending at first, and he endures enough hissed warnings and punishments to quickly understand how to school his features—to ‘look happier,’ to ‘behave properly,’ to keep his emotions properly suppressed.

So he learns how to paste on a smile, hides his arm, and religiously blocks his scent, as he keeps playing the role of the dutiful son and older sibling. People talk—of course they do, but as long as nothing is verified, it’s fine.

He’s fine.

With careful maintenance, Daichi is able to pass for a perfectly normal beta.

He tells himself that it doesn’t hurt when his mother treats him with chilly disdain—that his father pretends that he doesn’t exist. That the only interactions or contact he has with them are when they’re correcting his behavior. After all, he’s heard stories about other, less lucky omegas who were either kicked out immediately, or suffered constant physical abuse. His parents still provide everything that he needs, and as long as he behaves properly, he’s allowed to remain with the twins.

As long as he plays his role—keeps smiling and being the perfect son and older brother, he hopes that he’ll keep Yuta and Yuka’s sunflowers, and maybe, just maybe, new flowers might bloom to replace the lilacs that had died.

It doesn’t hurt to dream, afterall.

________________________________________________________________

It’s in his last year of middle school. He’s been so good at hiding himself—taking his suppressants—making sure his scent is blocked and his arm is covered. But then his first actual heat hits him when he’s in the locker room after volleyball practice.

Daichi fights back.

Of course he does.

He growls and snarls, snapping his teeth and lashing out as wildly and as violently as he can. However, he’s not just fighting against others, but his own body. The air is thick, the cloying scent of clashing pheromones making his mind hazy and his movements become more and more sluggish, as he struggles to keep to his feet against the unrelenting crush of bodies. Daichi nearly despairs when he’s finally knocked to the ground, but he refuses to give up, just barely managing to keep fighting back long enough for one student to run to get the teachers who manage to disperse the group.

He gasps for breath, choking on the scent of multiple alphas that completely saturate his skin, vaguely listening to the snarls and yelps from various students getting dragged away as he lies there, shaking, stinging bites lining his hands still clenched behind his neck. It’s only the sudden jolt of pain as a teacher injects him with an emergency heat suppressant, that finally has him painfully unclenching his cramped hands and pushing himself up. They lead him to another room where he answers the teacher’s, as well as the police officer’s accusations questions robotically. He’s given cursory care for his injuries along with some more scent-blocking patches, and Daichi finally manages to stagger back to his house a couple hours later, after half heartedly trying to drown clean himself in the showers.

Finally making it inside the house, he’s in the middle of taking off his shoes, when his head snaps to the side, body crashing into the wall of the entryway. Daichi dazedly brings a loosely bandaged hand up to his jaw, barely wincing at the dull, throbbing ache.

“Disgraceful.” His father sneers down at him, hand still raised from the backhand, as his nose wrinkles at the scent pouring off of Daichi, despite his (admittedly lackluster) efforts at cleaning. His mother’s pale face stares at him, holding Yuta and Yuka back from running towards him. Even though he knows the action is not meant that way, Daichi feels grateful for the small mercy. He doesn’t think he could stand it if anyone touched him as he is right now. “You didn’t even have the decency to clean off properly before coming home like that?” Daichi’s face is still as stone when his father turns away dismissively, “Then again, what else can you expect from an omega?”

Daichi keeps his back straight. His eyes are dry. After all, he already has dead blossoms in his garden. Despite his hopes, he has honestly already known what to expect, though it doesn’t make the hurt, burning inside his chest any easier to bear—that despite what had just happened, he’s not offered even the slightest compassion.

His father turns away, coldly informing him, “While you’re living in this house, you are not to ever go near Yuta or Yuka. I don’t want you being a negative influence on them.”

Daichi’s throat burns as he blinks rapidly, trying to control his breathing. He closes his eyes and nods, not trusting his voice to say anything. Then again, what was the point? He knows his words mean next to nothing.

Even without years of experience drilling that fact into his head, the teacher and police officer that questioned him over the incident would have been more than enough to teach him that—their comments on how shameless he’d be if he ruined the budding potential of young alphas for a few moments of youthful indiscretion. After all, wasn’t it his fault for putting himself in that situation? Why had he not been more careful around alphas, when everyone knew that an omega in heat was so vulnerable? Hadn’t he simply been looking for trouble, joining a sports team with so many alphas?

And so he remains silent. Daichi knows he’s meant to simply act as if he doesn’t exist, and despite the grief—the anger that he’s being blamed for things outside of his control, he’s still horribly grateful that at least he has a place to stay. He doesn’t mistake it for any sort of parental affection, understanding that it’s another way to save face (disowning a child—even an omega would have the neighbors chattering even more).

Regardless of the fact that he’s still allowed to stay, it doesn’t make it any easier to endure the loneliness—especially now that no one will even meet his eyes at school. He’s no longer allowed to scent the twins—to even show his face at the house until the twins are long asleep. Occasionally when it becomes too hard to endure, Daichi comes back early—just to catch a glimpse of Yuka and Yuta—to grasp a hint of their scent. It’s completely worth whatever punishment he gets—and if he finds himself actually leaning into a harsh blow, or hoping that the hand gripping his wrist, dragging him out of sight holds on for just a little longer, because it’s at least some form of physical contact? Well. That’s something he doesn’t let himself think about too much.

Some nights, he looks at the lights from the house, hears his family laughing and wonders whether the twins miss him at all. He strokes the sunflowers still blooming on his arm carefully, and tells himself it doesn’t hurt when they slowly begin to morph into indifferent candytuft blooms. He doesn’t cry when the heads of his own white camellias fall and wither, unable to keep living despite his love, when the disparity of feelings is so great. This is what he should have expected.

In the end, the only thing that he can do is to keep smiling—keep acting in his role. And if it’s just a little more difficult to call up an easy smile some days? That doesn’t matter. He’s the only one who has to know after all.

________________________________________________________________

Karasuno is a godsend for Daichi. No one else from his middle school is attending, and as long as he’s careful, he can simply pretend he’s an ordinary beta with a perfectly ordinary garden, never mind that he never takes the wraps off around his arm no matter the amount of ribbing he gets. It’s like a constant refrain in the back of his mind. Keep a smile on his face, cover his garden, and block his scent. Despite the secrets that he hides zealously, it’s wonderful. He actually has people that he can talk to—that don’t pretend like he doesn’t even exist.

He meets Suga, Asahi, and Kiyoko his first year, and though Asahi had him bristling a little at first—the alpha scent coming from Asahi automatically raising his hackles, it is Asahi’s gentleness and sweetness that has him finally accepting the teen.

For the first time in far too long, Daichi feels at ease, at peace. He thinks that maybe he’s finally found the home he’s been looking for ever since that night he’d found out he was an omega. However, there is a nagging thought in the back of his mind—that he’s just a fraud—that once his friends know just what he is, they will be just as disgusted in him, as his family had been. When green buds that promised to bloom into devoted and friendly alstroemeria petals begin to grow in his garden—the only green in a barren garden, it only strengthens his resolve to hold onto this fragile peace for at least a little bit longer.

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It’s late—Daichi had purposely waited for everyone to leave the locker room, because he needed to wash off the scent of his pre-heat pheromones before he headed home, and he’s tired of strangers staring at his arm in disgust in the public baths. Even with suppressants, he has to at least let his body go through a heat periodically, but doing so is hard on him—especially since he can’t afford to take the time to actually nest and ride out the worst of his pre-heat symptoms. He’s absentmindedly going over his funds—mentally calculating how many hours he’ll have to put into his part-time job to make sure he can cover the fee for the hotel he’ll have to use for his actual heat, so he’s not paying attention to his surroundings. He’s just removed his arm wrappings and begun unpeeling the scent blocking patches from his nape and wrists, when the door bangs open. His head whips up to meet Asahi’s wide gaze, and Daichi pales, immediately grabbing his arm and turning away to hide it from view, but he knows that it’s too late—Asahi had definitely seen everything.

“Daichi?” Asahi’s voice is small, as if to not spook him, and while Asahi is usually soft spoken, the way that he’s addressing him—as if he’s a frightened animal, makes something in Daichi snap.

“GET OUT!” Daichi yells, reaching for a nearby water bottle and hurling it blindly at Asahi. He snarls viciously, searching for something else to throw.

Asahi yelps, and then backs out, “Sorry—I—Sorry!” The door slamming behind him with a bang.

Slumping to the ground, Daichi buries his shaking hands in his hair. This is it. He’d fucked up—he shouldn’t have lost his temper like that—shouldn’t have yelled. He’d taken his time here for granted, and now it was all going to be ripped away. Asahi had seen his garden, had definitely smelled that he was an omega as soon as he’d walked into the locker room, and he now knew that Daichi wasn’t just a liar, but also Wilted. He resolutely doesn’t look at his garden where the alstroemeria had just started growing—doesn’t want the knowledge that the barely budding blooms might possibly already be withering on the vine.

He rubs a hand harshly over his eyes, exhaling slowly. His stomach flips at the thought of having to face Asahi again—what is he going to do—what is he going to say when he sees him?

Frantically dressing again, Daichi’s mind whirls. He needs to catch Asahi before the shock wears off, and try to somehow convince him not to tell anyone. He bites his lip, thinking furiously. He doesn’t have enough money to buy him off—he’ll have to get another part time job. Stomach roiling, he wonders if Asahi might want a different form of repayment—he doesn’t think the alpha would do that, but he’s been wrong in the past. Regardless, he’d be ready for anything. It’s with that thought in mind that Daichi yanks the door open, hurrying out, and stopping short when he sees Asahi huddled next to the door.

“Daichi! I—You were—”

Daichi quickly interrupts Asahi, a practiced smile on his lips, “I’m sorry you had to see that Asahi, and I completely understand if you’re not comfortable—”

“I’m sorry!”

Blinking in stunned silence, Daichi’s mouth opens, closes, and then opens again as he stares at Asahi, who huddles down on himself even more miserably.

“I didn’t mean to barge in on you like that. I’m so sorry that it happened! You know, Daichi… I’m also not… You already know that my temperament isn’t the same as other alphas. I’m too timid—too weak for a regular alpha. The only thing that seems alpha-like about me is my size.” He sighs, his eyes still downcast as he mumbles. “Despite that, you, Suga, and Kiyoko all accepted me. Do you really think I’d judge you?”

Daichi just blinks, as he stares at Asahi, completely flabbergasted. “But… I lied. And you saw my garden. I’m Wilted.”

Asahi’s head snaps up as he finally meets Daichi’s eyes. “Your secondary gender is your business. I couldn’t care less about any of that. And Wilted? The only people who really believe that being Wilted is bad are superstitious idiots. I know you Daichi. I know that those people who killed your blooms? They never deserved to have their flowers on you in the first place. And besides,” Asahi rolls up his sleeve, and Daichi’s breath catches as he sees pink petals of alstroemeria. “I know that these flowers are yours. They’ll always be yours, and nothing will change that.”

Daichi sags suddenly, all the adrenaline leaving his body in a rush. He crouches on the floor in front of Asahi, burying his face in his trembling arms. He vaguely hears Asahi panically asking him if he’s alright, and all at once, he’s laughing.

“Thanks, Asahi. I… I’m okay.”

And for the first time in a long time, he actually means it.

_____________________________________________________________________

When Karasuno meets Nekoma, it’s one of the most eye-opening experiences in Daichi’s life. Not just because this is Karasuno’s first time really getting to practice against a top tier team, but also because Nekoma’s setter is an omega.

He’s an omega, and he’s not just accepted by the team—the team’s strategy revolves around him—everyone making sure the setter can make the best possible decisions for the team.

Daichi can’t help the quiet awe that he feels whenever he sees Nekoma play together—the unconditional trust that’s present. It’s not as if Karasuno doesn’t have that same belief with each other—it’s just that Nekoma’s is so clearly well-practiced. Daichi sometimes wonders if he’ll ever feel courageous enough to simply let go of his beta facade—to openly be the Karasuno captain, despite being an omega. After all, Asahi had accepted him despite… well… everything. However, the mere thought of his teammates looking at him with the same disgust he’d seen so often, plus the chance that he might lose the one small haven he’s managed to eke out in his life, squash any wistful imaginings.

But it’s not only learning about Nekoma’s playstyle that changes the way Daichi thinks about the possibilities within his own life. He also meets one Kuroo Tetsurou.

Being friends with Kuroo is like spring, coming late after a long winter. At first, Daichi was wary of the other captain—the same wariness he usually felt around unfamiliar alphas. However, the more he interacted with Kuroo, the more that Daichi felt himself opening up, like a flower seeking the sunlight. And even though Kuroo somehow manages to get under Daichi’s skin like no one he’s ever met, he’s helplessly drawn in by the other captain’s unexpected kindness. He sees it first with how hard Kuroo works to include Karasuno in the training camp, and to make sure that Daichi is welcomed by the other captains. Then, with how Kuroo uses his extra time to help train Tsukishima and Hinata. When Daichi finds himself floundering a bit at the camp, Kuroo’s always there to help him out, and he finds himself trying to draw out that crooked smile more and more.

Just that would have been enough to justify the attachment he feels as pink tulip buds begin growing in his garden, but one particular incident that truly cements his feelings for Kuroo comes during one of the last days of their training camp.

As high school boys—especially high school boys who are mostly alphas, competitiveness and lack of impulse control generally mean that there’s usually a multitude of little competitions happening at any one time. Usually they’re harmless, if not slightly annoying. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always the case.

Nekoma and Karasuno are resting after a practice match, when Daichi hears the first years excitedly chattering on the hill they’d just been running.

“I heard that only dominant alphas can do that though?”

“It figures you wouldn’t know something so basic.” Tsukishima snickers, ignoring Hinata’s outraged shout. “All alphas can say an alpha command—it’s all about intention and will. Only dominant alphas can get it to work on betas or even other alphas.”

Hinata stares at Tsukishima, anger forgotten. “Ohh. That makes sense.”

Laughing loudly, Lev straightens up. “Hinata! Let’s see if we can do it!”

“Hinata you dumbass, don’t waste your energy on something stupid like this—”

Daichi stiffens. He knows where this conversation is going and he has to put a stop to it before—

“This is all for fun Kageyama-san! Besides, aren’t you curious at all?” Lev’s voice cuts in, and then:

“Relax.”

It’s almost like all of his muscles lose their strength as Daichi immediately slumps against the ground. He’s grateful that he’d already been sitting down—otherwise he’s pretty sure he might have given himself away. Cursing internally, he immediately bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, breaking himself out of the command. Pain can override alpha commands, and luckily, the command hadn’t been meant for him—otherwise he’d probably have had to try something more drastic to fight against it. He furiously shoves himself to his feet, intent on stopping them before they took their competition any further. However, before he even takes a step, an absolutely enraged voice snaps through the air.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kuroo is livid as he storms over to Lev, who has immediately shrunk down on himself. The other first years fidget uncomfortably as Kuroo glares at them.

“Do you think it’s fun trying to force someone to do something they didn’t consent to do?”

“I’m—I didn’t think—”

“No. None of you did. You didn’t think just how terrifying it might be for someone to lose control like that.”

“Sorry Kuroo—”

“It’s not me you need to apologize to. Since you’re all full of energy, you can run this hill 20 more times. I’d get to it quick. The next match starts in 15 minutes.”

Daichi watches, slightly dazed as Kuroo walks away—stopping to talk quietly to Kenma, before heading back towards the gym. He’d never heard anyone, let alone an alpha, speak out against those types of alpha behaviors with that much compassion. And it’s at that moment, Daichi knows without looking, that the tulips in his garden are in full bloom.

Those feelings only grow and deepen as Daichi and Kuroo continue to exchange texts and even calls after the training camp. Those calls soon become the highlight of Daichi’s week as he and Kuroo share stories of their team’s antics, commiserate over university applications and studying (Kuroo goes on one particularly memorable rant about organic chemistry that still makes Daichi chuckle whenever he remembers it), and Daichi slowly finds himself opening up to Kuroo about his own worries more and more—with Kuroo providing a kind and understanding ear. Perhaps he should have realized sooner that his feelings have grown beyond purely platonic for Kuroo, but it’s not until he feels his heart swoop when he finally hears Kuroo’s voice and sees him at Nationals that he fully understands.

Even if he hadn’t managed to figure it out, the new buds growing in his garden provide irrefutable proof that the warmth he feels in his stomach whenever he thinks of Kuroo is that of blooming romantic love. It almost embarrasses him, how cliche the barest hints of red poking out of the tulip buds is, but he also can’t deny the quiet awe he feels once he finally sees them.

Regardless, he has other things to worry about, and he pushes it to the side to focus on his team as well as the whirlwind of adrenaline and emotions, managing to win against Inarizaki, and then finally meeting and winning against Nekoma in the Battle of the Garbage Dump. It’s a constant rush until they play against Kamomedai and Hinata comes down with a fever.

The loss to Kamomedai stings, but Daichi is so incredibly proud of just how far the team (especially the first years) have come. That they’ve made it to Nationals at all—that they won the Battle of the Garbage Dump—that they got as far as they did—he knows that he’ll carry these memories with him for the rest of his life.

He’s still walking off the remnants of adrenaline as well as taking some time to get his thoughts in order, when he hears a familiar voice calling out for him.

“Yo! Sa’amura!”

A wide smile immediately spreads across Daichi’s face as he turns towards Kuroo. “Hey yourself. Are you headed out now, or are you staying to watch the finals?”

Kuroo shrugs one shoulder, “I’ll probably stick around. Cheer on Bo, because I definitely don’t want to deal with his whining if I didn’t. What about you?”

Daichi laughs quietly, because of course Bokuto would care about that. “I’m going to head back to the hotel to check on Hinata. Please tell Bokuto that I’ll be rooting for him.”

“I’ll let him know.” Kuroo assures him, but then his eyes take on a thoughtful look. “Hey. Sa’amura. Do you think I could get your advice on something?”

Tilting his head curiously, Daichi asks, “Sure. What did you want to know?”

Kuroo shifts a bit, looking around—as if checking that no one’s listening before hurriedly saying, “Well—hypothetically, say you have a friend—”

Daichi laughs, “Hypothetically? I thought you wanted advice?”

Groaning a bit, Kuroo grouses, “Cut me a break Sa’amura. Alright fine. I have a friend. And uh—” He flushes a bit, which catches Daichi’s attention, because it takes a lot to really faze Kuroo. “Well. This friend… I mean. He’s been through a lot growing up. He’s had to deal with so much crap from others, but despite that he still works so hard to prove himself. And even though he doesn’t let a lot of people close, I’m one of the lucky people he’s let in. Plus, he likes volleyball nearly as much as me.”

Kuroo gives a small chuckle, eyes fond, as he stares off into the distance. “It’s just… He’s one of the most amazing people I know, and I want to tell him that I… I like him more than a friend. That my garden has become more beautiful because of him. But I’m scared that if I do that, I might lose one of the best friends I have.”

Finished, Kuroo meets his eyes, cheeks red, and more flustered than Daichi’s ever seen him. Stomach fluttering, with something like hope, Daichi stares at Kuroo, because surely he isn’t…?

Swallowing around his suddenly dry throat, he carefully says, “I think… I think you should be honest with him.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out? What if he never feels comfortable with me again? I don’t mind if he doesn’t return my feelings—I just don’t know if I could handle losing him in my life. How can you be so sure about this?” Kuroo says softly, eyes downcast.

Gripping his arm, where he knows the tulip buds are just opening, Daichi slowly says, “It’s not that I’m sure. It’s just that… The flowers in your garden… you should treasure them.” He swallows around the tightness in his throat, “They’re special, and they’re there because your feelings are true. You shouldn’t just let them die. And I know that no matter what, if your friend also cares about you like you care for him, he’ll understand your worries. Even if he doesn’t feel exactly the same way, you won’t lose him.”

Daichi’s heart pounds against his ribcage as he pauses, and he’s so grateful for his scent-blocking patches—otherwise he’s sure he’d have given himself away immediately just by how anxious he knows he is. He has to say it now—he won’t be able to muster up his courage a second time. Because… What if Kuroo’s talking about him?

Taking a deep breath, Daichi is about to continue, but then—

“I suppose I really should be honest with Kenma, huh?” Kuroo gives a relieved smile, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “Thanks, Sa’amura. I’m so glad that I can talk these things over with you—having a beta friend’s seriously so nice, since you’re all so even-headed.”

Daichi keeps his smile up—that same, understanding one he’s been doing all his life. He should have known. Of course Kuroo’s been kind to him. He’s like that with everyone. Daichi’s just the idiot who misunderstood everything. Besides, how stupid and self-centered was he that he actually thought that someone like Kuroo liked him back? The corners of his lips tremble just the slightest bit before they smooth back into a smile as Kuroo continues to talk.

“It’s so cliche isn’t it? An alpha falling for their childhood friend who turns out to be an omega? Blech. I’m cringing saying it myself, and I’m the one that’s living through it. It’s so stupid—”

Daichi shakes his head as he interrupts Kuroo. “People’s feelings—your feelings aren’t stupid, so don’t say that.” He takes a breath, ignoring the smallest hitch in it, before continuing, “I’m sure that if you confess, Kenma will be sure to see the sincerity of your feelings

Later that night, Daichi brushes a thumb over where those tender buds of his first love had withered and died. He gives a small sigh. It had been a nice dream while it lasted, hadn’t it?

________________________________________________________________

Graduation is a bittersweet event—Daichi is so grateful for everything that he’s experienced at Karasuno, because without the team—without meeting Asahi, Suga, and Kiyoko, he’s sure that he might not have been able to keep moving forward day after day. He’s sad to leave the first and second years, but he knows that they will only continue to grow and get stronger, and he can’t wait to see what they accomplish. However, he’s finally of age to be able to move out from his family’s house—to leave behind the chilly disdain and trying to live as if he’s a ghost. And perhaps, he might even be able to truly find a place for himself.

Unfortunately, none of the other Karasuno third years are attending his university, but Daichi sees a familiar face nonetheless in his first week. Oikawa’s ebullient greeting throws him a little off balance—he hadn’t been expecting anyone he knew to be at his university—let alone someone that had been on a ‘rival’ team.

“Dai-chaaan!”

Blinking bemusedly, Daichi responds, “Hey Oikawa. I didn’t realize you were going to this university. Where’s Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa pouts exaggeratedly, “Iwa-chan decided to just abandon me to go to California. Whatever. He’ll be calling soon, crying because he’s so homesick.”

Daichi nods with a deadpan expression, “I’m sure he’ll do exactly that. I can’t even imagine the amount of loss he must be feeling without your charming self by his side.”

Oikawa cries out with outrage, “Don’t think I didn’t hear that sarcasm! I’m absolutely charming and a delight to be around!”

Forcing back a grin, Daichi widens his eyes in faux-innocence, “What are you talking about, Oikawa-san? I just wanted to say that I completely understand why Iwaizumi would miss you so terribly.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes at him, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If you’re really so skeptical, why don’t you give me a chance to prove it to you?”

Daichi pauses, because there seemed to be something more behind Oikawa’s question. He hesitantly answers, “Alright?”

To his slight surprise, Oikawa sighs in clear disappointment, “I can already see that you absolutely didn’t understand what I said.” Daichi bristles a bit, but settles back in confusion when Oikawa steps forward to take his hand. “What I meant was that I wanted to ask you on a date.”

Eyes wide, annoyance forgotten, Daichi stares, floundering for words. “Ah… But. I’m not—Are you sure?”

Laughing, Oikawa winks at him, “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. So what do you say?”

Daichi nods, a blush rising in his ears, because he’s half sure that Oikawa’s already partially proved just how charming he can be.

____________________________________________________________________

Dating Tooru is a rush unlike anything he’d felt before. The other man might be outwardly flashy, but has an introspective side that Daichi finds himself falling hard for, with some of the thoughtful things that Tooru does for him. When balsam matches the red roses that bloom in his garden, Daichi nearly weeps in relief—that he loves, but is also loved ardently in return.

However, just that love isn’t enough, because as the months pass, Daichi knows that Tooru is drawing away—getting impatient with him because he still hasn’t managed to screw up the courage to stop hiding his garden—that he continues to wear his scent blocking patches, despite the number of times that Tooru subtly (and not so subtly) questions him about them. And Daichi desperately wants to open up. To trust Tooru and let him know everything, but that lingering fear—that if he does, he’ll lose everything— remains.

He even nearly comes clean one time, going to Tooru’s apartment right before his pre-heat to scent him and to be scented in return. However, when he enters the apartment, Daichi notices a slight tension in Tooru’s shoulders and eyes.

Hesitating slightly, Daichi goes to sit on the couch next to him. “Everything alright, Tooru?”

Sighing slightly, Tooru nods, slumping into Daichi’s side. “Yea, I am. I’m just a bit annoyed, really.”

Threading a hand through Tooru’s hair, Daichi hums in understanding before asking, “Oh? About what?”

“Some of my fans—don’t smirk Dai-chan—anyway, some of my fans were a bit too pushy even though I told them I had a boyfriend. I mean, all they really care about is the fact that I’m an alpha.” Tooru sighs again, before muttering under his breath, “Fucking omegas.”

Daichi’s hand freezes and he struggles to control his breathing. A whine from Tooru jolts him back into motion as he resumes stroking his hair. Nauseating guilt rises up in him as he looks down at Tooru’s peaceful face, and Daichi tells himself that he’ll tell him later—that maybe if he can show Tooru that he truly loves him, Tooru might forgive him once he finds out.

So he tries in other ways to let Tooru know that he loves him. That his feelings are true, and that even though he’s still not ready to bare his soul, he does trust him in other ways, and he wants to be with him.

It’s just that he sees that his efforts just aren’t enough. He sees it every time Iwaizumi comes back to visit, and how Tooru immediately goes over to scent him. And while Daichi doesn’t consider himself a person that’s prone to jealousy, he can’t help the twist in his stomach when he sees Tooru nuzzling into Iwaizumi’s shoulder and neck during his latest visit. Scenting is common among friends and family after all—but it doesn’t make it any easier to bear when he hears Tooru off-handedly comment, when Iwaizumi gripes that he should save his clinginess for his boyfriend, that there was no point in scenting with someone always on blockers.

Chest tightening, Daichi turns away. He knows he has to try harder—has to just get over his cowardice and hangups, because Tooru truly does deserve better.

____________________________________________________________________

It all comes to a head when Daichi walks into Tooru’s apartment one day. He freezes in the entranceway when he hears Iwaizumi’s voice play from the speaker of Tooru’s phone, “Some people are just really private about those things—it takes time—”

“But hiding it from your boyfriend? Plus, it’s already been months. For fuck’s sake, we’ve had sex, and Daichi still hasn’t shown me his garden!” Tooru’s voice is loud, and Daichi instinctively flinches back. “I don’t even know his actual scent, because he doesn’t ever take off his scent blockers—” A ragged sound tears from Tooru’s throat, “It’s just… It’s so hard when it feels like he’s hiding something from me, and I thought he would be…” Tooru swallows hard, “I just wish he were more like you sometimes.”

Daichi takes a step back, heart pounding against his chest, but in his distraction, he knocks into the coat rack by the entryway. Daichi winces, closing his eyes in resignation. There was no way that Tooru hadn’t heard that, and he’s proven right when he hears Tooru hurriedly say goodbye to Iwaizumi, before the sound of his footsteps rapidly come closer. Daichi meets Tooru’s eyes, the other man’s face unreadable as he asks, “So? How much did you hear?”

Dropping his eyes, Daichi answers, unable to meet Tooru’s neutral gaze. “Tooru, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I—The door was open, and I know I should have left right away—”

Tooru sighs, turning around as he indicates for Daichi to follow him. “We might as well talk about this now. It’s been a long time coming, after all.”

With hesitant steps, Daichi follows him, perching himself on the couch at Tooru’s prompting. It should be familiar and comforting—he’s spent so much time with Tooru here, laughing through a terrible movie, or spending lazy rainy days cuddled together. But now, it seems as unfamiliar as the cold expression on Tooru’s face.

“I’m guessing you heard my conversation with Iwa-chan.”

At Daichi’s shamefaced nod, Tooru closes his eyes, in seeming annoyance, before opening them again. “Well, then you can understand exactly where I’m coming from.” He frowns, eyes narrowing, “So all cards on the table, Daichi, because you’ve seen everything from me. Do you even love me Daichi? Was that the reason why you never showed me your garden? Why you never took off your scent blockers? You’ve seen my garden—you know how I feel about you.”

“I do love you—I just—” Daichi swallows, because hard-learned experience has taught him that nothing he says ever matters. But the person who’s listening to him now is Tooru. He loves and trusts him—he really does. It’s just that he’s still terrified of how Tooru might react when he finally learns the truth. However, isn’t that the problem? He didn’t trust Tooru enough, that’s what led to all of this. In the end, it’s all his fault. So he forces himself to stay still when Tooru slowly reaches forward to peel the scent blocking patch off his neck.

Nostrils flaring slightly at the scent, the look in Tooru’s eyes is unreadable.

“You’re an omega?” It’s less a question than a statement

Daichi ignores the instinctive hurt as he responds, “I’m still the same person, no matter what my secondary gender is.”

The burst of laughter from Tooru is startling, and Daichi attempts to pull away again, but the grip on his wrist is bruisingly strong. “Lies of omission are still lies, Dai-chan.” There’s an eerie light in Tooru’s eyes—something just the slightest bit off that screams at Daichi’s hindbrain to run. But this is Tooru. He loves him, and it’s not like he isn’t in the wrong here—he’s been deceiving Tooru this entire time after all.

Daichi swallows hard, forcing himself to stay still as he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Tooru ignores him, his other hand ghosting down to the bandages covering Daichi’s arm in a mockery of tenderness. “So what else have you been lying about, hm? Did you think that it’d be fun to play with my feelings?” His mouth curls into a sneer. “You’re an omega, and I know you haven’t been spending your heats with me—haven’t been scenting me. How many other people have you been messing around with? How many other people do you have flowers for?”

Daichi faintly thinks that being punched would have hurt less.

He’s still reeling from the question, but apparently, his lack of an answer has dragged on for too long, and Tooru’s arm snaps out, tearing down the middle of his shirt—buttons flying as he pushes the shirt aside to reveal Daichi’s bandaged arm.

“Wait! Tooru—no! It’s not what you think!” Daichi grapples with him, unwilling to fight back seriously, but desperately trying to keep the coverings on. “Please—let me explain—”

“Stay still.” The alpha command immediately stops Daichi’s struggles, but he screams in his mind for his body to move as Tooru brings a hand to the end of his wrappings and yanks.

It’s the look in Tooru’s eyes that lets him know that there is no coming back from any of this. The look of subtle horror and disgust that he can’t quite hide. It’s a look that Daichi intimately knows.

He sees it in the mirror every day, after all.

Biting down on his tongue with all his strength, Daichi welcomes the sharp pain needed to break the command, pushing Tooru off, as he flees the apartment, holding his tattered shirt together.

He can’t tell if he’s grateful that Tooru doesn’t chase after him.

Holed up in the safety of his apartment, Daichi curls into himself, shaking. He tries to tell himself that he’ll be fine. This was fine. Something to be expected even. This would never have gotten to this point if he’d been honest in the first place. Not everyone wants to get into a relationship with an omega. And sure, it’s not common to see people with wilted blooms—let alone so many dead blooms. It’s understandable that Tooru is angry. At the end of the day, it’s because Daichi hadn’t opened up—hadn’t trusted enough, despite his love. That’s what had driven Tooru into Iwaizumi’s arms. Daichi understands that. So it’s not the breakup or even the newly wilted blossoms on his arm that manages to put a crack into his facade.

Those alone, he could have handled with some modicum of grace.

He realizes something is wrong as soon as he enters his first lecture of the day.

“Heey Sawamura! Man, you really do have everyone fooled with your straight-laced demeanor. Never would have guessed you were an omega, though I can’t say that I’m disappointed at all.”

Daichi stares, bewildered, up at the man—Tamura leaning into his space. He’s also in the volleyball club with him, but outside of the club, they never really interacted, despite being in some of the same classes. Then Tamura’s words hit him, and panic, ugly and wretched, claws at his throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Daichi tries to answer as steadily as he can. His mind spins frantically. He hasn’t missed a day of his suppressants, and his scent blocking patches should be enough to eliminate any residual scent, so how exactly had he been found out?

“Hey, there’s no need to play coy. I see now why you decided to stay on with the volleyball club, despite being a second stringer. With all the alphas there, you can have your pick of the knot.”

Static fills Daichi’s ears, as he stares at the alpha, spouting those ugly words and snickering at his own terrible joke. He can barely hear his own voice when he asks, “Where did you hear that from?”

“Huh?” Tamura looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Oikawa told us you were an omega when we were going over the roster and who needed—”

Daichi’s heard enough. He shoves past Tamura, but is drawn up short by the other man’s hand on his shoulder. Turning his head slightly, he grits out, “Let. Go.”

“Whoa there, take it easy! Don’t ruin your pretty face with such an ugly expression.” Tamura laughs, his hand gripping tighter.

Daichi growls out, “Take your hand off before I rip it off.”

The easy smile on Tamura’s face drops, “Hey! Stop being such a frigid bitch. You should be fucking grateful for the compliment. No wonder Oikawa dumped your ass.”

The punch connects before Daichi even realized he was moving. It’s as if something in him snaps. His chest is cold, all the warmth in him eaten away by wintry rage.

He can feel his lips curl into a snarl, as he easily bats away Tamura’s wild haymaker, and delivers another blow to the taller man’s jaw. He stares dispassionately down at the bleeding man, before walking away, ignoring the hushed whispers and stares from his classmates. As he walks, his steps gradually begin to speed up, until he’s nearly sprinting to get back to his apartment. He gasps for breath as he slams the door to his apartment open, staring blankly down at the little entryway. His eyes narrow when he notices that Tooru’s umbrella is still there—a memory comes, unbidden, of the time Tooru had come to pick him up from the library because he’d forgotten his umbrella.

But that warmth that Tooru had shown to him wasn’t his anymore, was it? At least, despite Daichi’s betrayal, Tooru had shown him the smallest kindness by not telling everyone about his garden.

Tearing his eyes away from the umbrella, he bends to remove his shoes, when his eyes fall onto his bleeding knuckles. Staring down at them, Daichi feels abruptly ill.

He barely makes it to the toilet before he’s sick. He clutches the bowl as he dry heaves, his hands leaving streaks of red as red as the roses he once had. He fumbles a hand up, flushing the toilet, before slumping against the wall, laughing just a bit desperately before it dies a pitiful death on a choked back sob.

He’d been so stupid, believing that he had actually been worthy of Tooru’s love. He doesn’t deserve things like kindness or loyalty or care. He’d gotten lucky that Asahi had accepted him, but who was he to expect more?

“It was my fault,” Daichi rasps out, as he closes his eyes against the memories of the horror and disgust in Tooru’s eyes—of the leer that other alpha had given him—of the dismissive way his classmates had stared at him, because it wasn’t Daichi that any of them saw once they knew.

Daichi hits his head against the wall hard enough to hurt, but the pain isn’t enough to stop the sob that works its way up his throat. “I should have known better.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Daichi submits his resignation to the volleyball club, and spends the rest of his time in university keeping to himself. It seems that once the word had spread about how he’d beaten up Tamura, most people left him alone. Whispers that he’s a violent and unstable omega following after him. He’s glad at least that there had been no charges pressed—after all, no alpha wanted to admit that they’d gotten beaten by an omega, so there were at least some uses for the casual discrimination against omegas.

He supposes he does have Oikawa and the other alphas to thank for something beyond the freeing up of his social calendar—a resolve to protect those unable to protect themselves. He changes his major to criminal justice—intent on becoming an officer so that another omega wouldn’t ever have to go through what he had when he’d faced that interrogation alone in middle school—and to face what he might have had to face if he hadn’t been able to fight off his attacker.

It’s as if a strange clarity has come over him, and Daichi no longer hides the fact that he’s an omega. While he will still keep his garden hidden—the wounds too fresh and deep to even think of showing it, he refuses to be made smaller—to be ashamed simply because he’d been born an omega.

It’s a mixture of that clarity as well as guilt of not being honest with some of his closest friends that has him finally telling the truth of his secondary gender to Suga and Kiyoko with Asahi there as silent support. Despite their initial surprise, their easy acceptance nearly makes Daichi weep in relief (though he blames his tears on Suga’s karate chop to his stomach). The fact that he knows they’re behind him—that they care for him—makes him even more determined to succeed as an omega.

So Daichi works hard. The looks of disbelief when he surpasses alphas and betas alike, despite being an omega is well worth his initial unease at presenting openly as an omega. He pushes himself harder and harder, eventually graduating university, and then attending the local police academy, graduating at the top of his class. He’s grateful as well that at the very least, the discrimination that omegas usually faced was tempered by ever-so-slowly changing social norms, where omegas had been granted the right to join more martial-oriented careers in the past 10 years, so seeing an omega police officer was becoming less and less of a novelty.

The loud cheering from Asahi, Suga, and Kiyoko after his speech more than makes up for the muted sting in his heart when he sees the families of the other graduates congratulating them afterwards.

_______________________________________________________________________

It’s his first year as an officer, and he’s in the middle of patrol, when he hears a cheery, “Crow Captain!”

Daichi turns, bemused, until his eyes land on a familiar face, the blond hair and piercings jogging at his memory.

“Uh. Johzenji?”

“Yup! It’s been a while, but I thought I recognized you! We never did manage to beat you crows.”

Daichi can’t help but crack a small smile at that, his pride in his underclassmen glowing warmly in his chest. “Karasuno isn’t that easy to beat.” He extends his hand out, “Sawamura Daichi—or former Crow Captain.”

Terushima takes his hand with a wide grin, “Well then, nice to meetcha, Daichi-san. I’m Terushima Yuuji—or Johzenji.”

It’s strange—Daichi would never have thought that he’d ever hang out—let alone be friends with Terushima Yuuji, but he supposes that there are always surprises in life.

And it’s slow—it takes time, but eventually, Daichi no longer feels like crying when he thinks about Oikawa—he can feel himself healing from the rejection and abandonment—the shock of another wilted bloom in his garden. After all, while he hadn’t been enough then, at least Yuuji accepted him now. The fact that he was an omega hardly fazed the man, only commenting how difficult it must have been, to have succeeded as he had, as an officer. It’s a multitude of small moments—of little bits of happiness that Daichi shares with Yuuji.

The roses and balsam he once had would never blossom again, but he has a bright bunch of devoted honeysuckles and loving red tulips blooming bright, and he feels, for the first time in a long time—happy.

It’s been a year and a half since they’d first started dating, and Daichi finally feels ready to show Yuuji his garden. One thing that he was so glad of, was that even though Yuji had been curious before, he’d never truly pushed Daichi to show him, and he was immeasurably grateful for it. But Daichi has a ring box burning a hole in his pocket, and he knows that it’s high time that he shows Yuuji his garden—shows that he truly does trust and love the other man, with the honeysuckles and red tulips to prove it.

When he finally unwraps his arm, he works up his courage, chancing a glance at Yuuji, and his heart stutters and immediately falls.

He never does take that box out of his pocket.

It’s not an immediate thing—their break-up, though Daichi knows from how the honeysuckles die, that it’s coming. He still tries—of course he does, because maybe if he’s able to show how much he loves Yuuji—prove that even with wilted blooms he’s still capable of love—Yuuji might stay. But every single cold dinner he has to put away, each night he goes to bed alone, every unanswered text only further serves to smother the little flame of hope he harbored in his heart.

One night, exhausted from work and his heart aching to the core, Daichi steps into the apartment, and knows just what is coming when he sees Yuuji waiting for him.

“Daichi,” Yuuji’s sitting at the kitchen table, face set in uncharacteristically serious lines, and his hands are folded in front of him. He looks up, and Daichi knows that look in the other man’s eyes. He knows what’s coming, but that doesn’t ease the clawing feeling inside his chest when he hears Yuuji’s next words. “We need to talk.”

Nodding his head jerkily, Daichi seats himself at the table. Some mix of emotions—a damning combination that looks a lot like guilt and, worst of all, relief, fight their way across Yuji’s expression.

Daichi just closes his eyes and breathes as he listens to all the reasons why ‘It’s not his fault, it’s just that he’s in a different place in life, and of course he still cares for Daichi—just not the same way, and how he’s sorry that he can’t be that person for Daichi anymore.’

He doesn’t say a word—just nods and smiles when Yuji asks him whether he’s okay. Neither of them acknowledge the lies hanging in the air—the dead blooms on Daichi’s arm clearly showing that he’s not present in Yuuji’s heart at all, while the newly bloomed linden flower on Yuji’s arm proves that he has truly moved on—has found someone better. He doesn’t blame Yuji, though he wishes he could, and honestly, he really should have known better than to think this would be a happy story for him.

All Daichi ever really wants is for someone else to look at his garden and accept him for who he actually is—not whatever poor imitation they tried to make him into.

He wants just one person to choose him.

But then Daichi never really gets what he wants, does he?

He’s used it by now.

_______________________________________________________________________

Yuuji leaves their apartment and everything in it with Daichi. All he takes with him are his clothes packed away in a single duffel bag.

There is, apparently, a place ready and waiting for him and not much from the life he’s leaving behind that he wants to take.

Standing at the window, Daichi watches Yuuji leave him behind. He toys absentmindedly with the ring box in his hand, before setting it down on what had been Yuuji’s side of the bed.

In the end, Daichi is left with an engagement ring, an empty apartment, and an emptier heart.

His life is now a study in ignoring empty spaces. In dragging himself out of echoing silence, and catching himself before he calls out to someone he knows won’t answer back. He tries not to dwell on what, who, is missing.

It’s a difficult thing to do too, given all of the memories that linger in what used to be their home.

Ultimately that’s how Daichi finds himself standing silently in the living room, hands shaking as he stares down at the hoodie lying on the table.

It’s been laying on the coffee table, scent long faded, since… since before and he’s just been moving around it.

Just like Yuuji’s robe on the back of the chair, and the picture of the two of them at the beach. Even though Yuuji had packed up most of his belongings, these things had remained, these tiny reminders of what once was. They litter the apartment like an emotional minefield ready for him to make a single misstep. Each of them only serves to remind him, painfully, that there used to be more than just him living there. That there was once a time where someone had loved him—that he had a home to belong to.

But he forces himself to pick up these pieces he’d been walking around, packing them away just as tenderly as the feelings he held for Yuuji.

Because Daichi is used to drinking down hurt and pain and betrayal with a smile. Has had an entire lifetime of never being enough for those he loves, no matter how hard he tries.

And, despite it all—like a fool, he always tries.

Sometimes, when it’s dark and too quiet in his apartment, Daichi goes out and simply runs. The pounding of his feet on the pavement helps to drive out the intrusive thoughts in his head, because if nothing else, for a brief period of time, he doesn’t have to dwell on what he’s lost.

Unfortunately he can’t outrun the thoughts forever, and he finds himself on a hilltop on the outskirts of the city, staring up at the stars wistfully.

He wishes he knew how to fix this inherent flaw he seems to have inside of him that makes it so easy for people to leave him behind. Wishes he knew why the ones he loves don’t love him back the same way.

Or at all sometimes.

At the very least he wishes he didn’t care so much.

Perhaps then he could find some peace.

_______________________________________________________________________

Daichi continues to do his job—to keep helping those less fortunate than he’s been. He gets tired though. Tired of slogging through each day pretending to be okay when he’s pretty sure he’s not okay. Sure, his life could be better, but he’s seen many people who are worse off than he is; He has a roof over his head, and at least has friends who support him—plus he has Asahi who’s been unconditionally accepting of him.

And yet, Daichi isn’t happy. He can’t remember the last time he was truly happy. He gets dim flashes of the emotion when he’s volunteering with the kids at the local gym, or when he has dinner with Suga, Kiyoko, and Tanaka (or Asahi on the rare occasions when he’s visiting from Tokyo), or when he gets thanked by the people that he helps during work.

But they’re just flashes. Temporary smiles and momentary contentment that does nothing to get rid of the constant tightness in his gut and the heavy darkness that’s always lingering at the back of his mind.

It takes time, but eventually, Daichi realizes just how much he’s suffocating in Sendai. And even though it took a while for that revelation to come to him, when it does, it’s as if a new purpose overwhelms him. In a matter of three months, he’s requested for a transfer, broke the lease on his apartment, and has moved to his new assignment in Tokyo.

Tokyo is an explosion of colors and people, and Daichi feels nearly overwhelmed with the sensory overload. However, being overwhelmed is good for him, considering that right now, all he wants to do is start over. It honestly feels as if maybe—just maybe, he can finally leave everything behind. It’s an endeavor he throws himself into wholeheartedly, bouncing around a series of clubs in order to get shit faced and find whoever’s most willing to fuck him.

He’s sick of crying, sick of hurting, and most of all, sick of tiptoeing through life. There’s an itch under Daichi’s skin, just beneath the surface. An itch he wants scratched, just to avoid the tears and the nightmares and the everything he can’t say to anyone. He doesn’t want to continue locking himself away, and he admits that a shameful part of himself wants to pretend that he’s desirable for at least one night—that if he gets fucked hard enough, it’ll allow him to forget for a little while.

Even though it’s a fleeting feeling, at this point, he’ll take what he can get.

________________________________________________________________

He’s patrolling Shinjuku, helping lost tourists find their way, breaking up altercations when necessary, when he sees a tall man leaning against a wall, looking much the worse for the wear. Walking closer, he sees a very familiar shock of wild black hair.

“Kuroo?”

The man stirs, opening his eyes blearily, “Wha--Hey! Sa’amuraaaa.” He stumbles towards him, “Wha’re you doin’ here?”

Daichi instantly steadies Kuroo, who leans into him, snuffling a bit, “Kuroo, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not too much! Was jus’--jus’ findin’ somethin.’” Kuroo frowns a bit, as if faced with an incomprehensible problem.

“Let’s get you home, you drunkard.”

“How scandalous, Officer! It’s ok, you can take me home anyti—Urrkkh!”

Daichi suppresses a grin as he pats Kuroo’s heaving back, “Oh you’re definitely going to hate yourself in the morning. Do you think you can walk?”

Kuroo just mumbles as he leans against Daichi’s side.

Slinging Kuroo’s arm across his shoulders, they make their way slowly to the main street. Huffing slightly in exertion, Daichi asks lightly, “So business meeting gone a little too well? You have to watch out for those old guys. Their livers are probably like a blue whale’s”

Head lolling to the side, Kuroo slurs out, “No meeting. Jus’ dealing with things. Life. Y’know how it is.” His eyes focus slightly, “Heeyy Sa’amuraa. Haven’t seen ya since—since—”

“Since I found you earlier nearly napping on the street like a drunken bum.”

“You’re a drunken bum.”

“You’re definitely drunk if that’s the extent of your witty comeback.”

“I’ll show your mom a comeback.”

“Charming.” Daichi mutters as he debates ‘accidentally’ dropping Kuroo right on his ass. Sighing with relief when he sees a free cab, he waves it down as Kuroo decides that now is the perfect time to lean all of his body weight around Daichi’s shoulders.

Letting out a surprised grunt, Daichi hurries to support Kuroo’s weight, “Kuroo, are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to call Kenma for you?”

Kuroo gives a short laugh, but there’s an undercurrent of hurt that causes Daichi to pause, “Kenma? Nah—” Kuroo shakes his head, “He left me—said we had to find ourselves—so ‘s just me. All on my lonesome.”

Daichi stops in surprise, because surely Kuroo just meant that Kenma wasn’t currently home. After all, Kuroo had been in a relationship with Kenma ever since high school. Granted, he hadn’t really been in touch with the other man since around the time his relationship with Yuji was falling apart, but he thinks he would have still known if Kuroo and Kenma had ended their relationship. Putting those thoughts to the side, Daichi instead bundles Kuroo into the taxi, before he radios back to Hiroto, his patrol partner, to let him know that he’s helping a friend home. Kuroo rattles off his address at Daichi’s prompting, and the rest of the ride is spent with him batting drunkenly at Daichi’s hat.

With a lot of careful maneuvering and internal swearing on Daichi’s part, they finally make it into Kuroo’s apartment. Easing him down on the couch, Daichi carefully arranges Kuroo’s lanky limbs into the recovery position, and then makes sure a glass of water is within easy reach.

Daichi’s just about to leave, when he hears Kuroo slur out, “Can always depend on you, Sa’amura. Good ‘ol dependable Sa’amura…” His voice trails off with a snore.

Rubbing absently at his arm, Daichi wonders a bit at the slight pang from Kuroo’s drunken statement. Shaking his head at himself, he leaves the apartment, freezing when he shuts the door behind him.

Because in Kuroo’s apartment, though Kenma’s scent was still present, it was barely there.

________________________________________________________________

Still reeling slightly from what he’d learned last night, Daichi valiantly tries to concentrate on filling out the report in front of him despite the fact that his mind kept wandering back to his speculations. The faint scent definitely meant that Kuroo and Kenma weren’t living together anymore—after all, if they had been, his scent would have permeated the apartment. However, for Kenma’s scent to still be around like that, the two must still keep in pretty regular contact. His tenuous concentration is broken by the sound of his phone ringing, a familiar name popping up on the screen. He stares at it, hesitating slightly, before finally picking it up, “Hey Kuroo, I see you’re still alive despite all attempts to the contrary.”

“Sa’amura! How callous of you. Especially when I was just calling to say thanks for helping my drunk ass home last night. Sorry you had to deal with that.”

The corners of Daichi’s lips curl up, despite himself. “Not an issue. Besides, I’m pretty used to helping out drunken bums, since that’s part of my job.”

“Ouch. You’re going to wound my maidenly heart! Is that proper behavior from an officer of the law? Speaking of, I didn’t even know you were in Tokyo now. When’d you make the move and how come you never bothered to tell me? I thought we were friends, Sa’amura.”

Daichi immediately deadpans, “Which is exactly why I didn’t leave you in the gutter for the trash collectors to pick up.”

Laughing uproariously, Kuroo finally says, “Fine, fine. How about this? Let me take you out for dinner and show you around the city a bit. As thanks, and also a welcome to the city.”

Daichi hesitates, but decides it can’t hurt to reach out to more people—to slowly expand his circle of friends in Tokyo. He’s been really only spending his time with Asahi, and while the other man would never tell him he was bothering him, Daichi didn’t want to intrude on Asahi’s time—especially since the man had just formally mated Noya. While he used to have more than platonic feelings for Kuroo, they’ve already died out by now. He can do this.

Heaving a put upon sigh, he responds, “Alright, but you better not cheap out. Don’t think that just because I came from the countryside, I won’t know anything about Tokyo.”

Giving a mock scandalized gasp, Kuroo says, “Sa’amura! I would never!” Daichi waits patiently, because he knows Kuroo can’t help himself, and he’s proven right when the man finally asks, “So does that mean you’ve finally seen the Skytree?”

Daichi’s sudden laugh startles Hiroto so much, the poor man spills his tea right on his lap.

____________________________________________________________________

Daichi checks his watch, a gift from the other third years when he’d gotten into the police academy, again. He’s still fifteen minutes early for his meeting with Kuroo, but his nerves are fizzling under his skin, and he’d been unable to keep waiting at his apartment, because this is his first time meeting Kuroo in person since he’d stopped hiding that he was an omega. And while he doesn’t think Kuroo will outright reject him, considering the fact that he definitely doesn’t discriminate against omegas, it’s still nerve wracking.

Ten minutes later, Daichi’s pacing a nervous circle, when he hears his name being called. “Sa’amura!”

Kuroo jogs up as he waves, “Sorry! Were you waiting long?”

Daichi shakes his head, “Not at all. Besides, you got here early too.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Kuroo laughs, “I couldn’t be late, considering that this is the first time we’re meeting in person since high school.” It’s subtle, but because Daichi is watching so carefully, he sees the exact moment that Kuroo’s nose twitches ever so slightly, taking in his scent. Eyes widening, Kuroo turns to him, “Sa’amura…?”

Smiling nervously, Daichi nods, confirming Kuroo’s unspoken question. “Yea, I’m sorry I never told you before now. It took me a long time, but I realized that I didn’t want to keep hiding the fact that I’m an omega—like it was something shameful.” He swallows, before hesitantly continuing, “I completely understand if you want to leave now. And if you’re angry because I deceived you, I—”

“No!”

Kuroo steps closer, his expression intense. “You don’t have to apologize, and I’m not angry at all—who could be angry because—” He stops, taking a deep breath, before continuing in a calmer tone. “I’m sure you had your reasons, and I’d never blame anyone for not feeling safe to be open about their second gender. Besides, I know you, Sawamura. Your secondary gender doesn’t change that.”

All of the tension immediately drains from Daichi’s shoulders, and he’s a little shocked at how relieved he feels—he hadn’t realized just how much he’d still treasured Kuroo’s opinion of him, and the way that the other man had so easily swept away all of his fears still has him a little off kilter as he murmurs, heartfelt, “Thank you, Kuroo.”

A slow, crooked grin spreads across Kuroo’s face, “Anytime, Sa’amura. Besides, shouldn’t you know by now that ever since we became friends, you’re stuck with me for life? It’s a burden you’ll have to suffer through. No take backs.”

A matching smile steals across Daichi’s face, “Then I’ll be in your care, Kuroo.”

____________________________________________________________________

That first dinner turns into two, then three, and then they’re suddenly meeting up at least once a week if not more for dinner or drinks. And maybe Daichi should be a little more nervous by how easy it is for him to fall into the same joking banter he’d shared with Kuroo in high school, but just like before, he finds himself helplessly drawn to the easy kindness that Kuroo shows him and others. It’s almost like nothing had changed in their friendship.

Walking back to his apartment after one dinner, Daichi thinks of Kuroo’s crooked smile when he’d reached over to brush some crumbs from the side of his mouth. He thinks of the way he so easily allowed Kuroo to slot so easily into his personal space. He thinks of how lately, when it all gets to be too much, instead of getting drunk and finding some stranger to fuck him, he thinks instead about how he wants to see Kuroo again.

That’s when Daichi realizes he might be in trouble.

Later, back in his apartment, he pulls down the wrappings on his arm, his heart in his throat. With trembling fingers, he brushes against the tiny buds of baby’s breath, throat aching from the repressed tears.

‘Innocence. Everlasting love.’

Doesn’t the flower know he lost any innocence when he’d been forced down to that dirty, locker room floor?

Doesn’t the flower know that he’s broken, wrong, unlovable in some fundamental, irreparable way?

He’s pathetic. So fucking pathetic.

He’s falling in love with Kuroo Tetsurou all over again, and he’s pretty sure he’s never going to recover from this.

________________________________________________________________

Despite the fact that the smartest thing for Daichi to do in this situation would be to distance himself from Kuroo, he still continues their dinners together. He doesn’t want to lose the easy friendship that they have now—especially after reconnecting after so long. Kuroo's friendship has quickly become one of the most important relationships in his life, and Daichi is more than willing to ignore his burgeoning feelings in order to not lose it.

And it’s fine—great even, because he and Kuroo have become even closer friends than they were in high school. Unfortunately, one side effect of that is that Kuroo has now deemed Daichi as his designated drinking partner whenever he wants to talk about his romantic woes—or at times that truly test Daichi’s heart, get rip roaring drunk and tell him about his relationship with Kenma.

“I was over at Kenma’s the other day, and you know that little look he gets in his eye when he’s playing a super hard level? It was just so cute that it took everything in me to not just lean over and kiss him.” Kuroo groans, burying his head in his arms.

“‘S just… Kenma… well he’s it for me. I know he means well—says that this is supposed to be a time where we figure ourselves out and what we really want in a relationship—I mean… neither of us ever dated anyone else, and I get it—I do! He wants to be sure that neither of us are just staying together because it’s comfortable and it’s easier. But it’s just so hard to go back to only being friends, when every person I try to date, I just think about him. But he doesn’t seem to have any problems with it and it hurts.”

Daichi ignores the dull pang in his chest as he hums sympathetically, patting Kuroo’s slumped over form. When Kuroo gets to this point, he’s mostly just looking for support—not for any actual input. That’s why when Kuroo props his head up and actually addresses him, he nearly inhales his next sip.

“Hey Sawamura, have you ever had someone close to you break your heart like that?”

Daichi freezes, heart racing, but then Kuroo gives a soft laugh, “What’m I saying? You’re Sawamura Daichi.” He sighs, burying his face back in his arms. “Must be nice.”

Daichi nods, throat tight, before wistfully murmuring, “Yea. Must be nice.”

____________________________________________________________________

Staring down at his phone, Daichi’s thumb hovers over Kuroo’s name. His pre-heat’s coming up, so currently his body is screaming at him to start building his nest with things that bring him comfort—make him feel safe. And most of all, it screams at him for touch and scent, thus bringing him to his current indecisiveness. Despite his new-found closeness with Kuroo, he still can’t quite bring himself to ask Kuroo to scent him, since the other man had never brought it up. Even with Asahi or Suga or Kiyoko, Daichi is worried about overstepping his boundaries—that his actions might lead to misunderstandings between them and their partners. But most of all, he’s terrified that if he ever shows how stupidly needy he is, that will be the final straw that pushes them away. Unfortunately, his idiotic biology screams at him for touch and affection.

But hey, even though his biology was all kinds of fucked up, at least it also meant that for now, he could receive at least some form of physical affection. After all, he never had any issues with getting people interested. It was always the matter of them staying that was his problem. With that decided, Daichi instead slips his phone into his pocket, heading for a bar not far from his apartment, making sure his arm is wrapped tight, but allowing his scent to waft from him. Standing at the bar, he downs another shot, trying his best to not think about just why this is the only way he can experience an—if not kind touch—some form of actual human contact. His throat burns from the cheap whiskey, helping to disguise the burning in his eyes.

Slapping down some money to pay for the drinks, he goes to the dance floor, set on handling his problems the only way he can—touch, love, even if it’s just for the night and just in his head. He needs to feel someone else’s heartbeat against his, needs to feel warmth near him, and pretend he isn’t leeching it from them like a goddamn parasite.

It isn’t long before an alpha heads towards him—confident and sure. He’s handsome—black-haired, broad, with big hands that look like they can break him in half—all which sends a shivery thrill through him as the alpha’s hands wrap around his hips.

He knows this game, even if he hates that he does.

“Want to take this somewhere more…private?” his dance partner asks, a smirk on his lips.

Daichi grins at him, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists at the alpha’s smile.

“I’d love to.”

Daichi tells himself that this is exactly what he needs, exactly what he wants. A distraction, something, or someone to lessen the pain of Ku—everything. To find love in the simplicity of touch, in the one place he could find love as temporary as he deserves, and if this is all he’ll get, he has to accept it, has to take it. It’s not like he’s meant for long term commitment, not with the way he is, so this is what he has and what he’s allowed.

It’s not long before they’re back at the alpha’s apartment and have sex with the lights off. Daichi prefers it that way—easier to hide his arm even if his arm wrappings slip—easier to lose himself in the feeling of being fucked hard and fast—easier to pretend like he’s desirable. He hisses when the alpha’s cock slides in, but masks it as a sound of pleasure, because it hurts a little. They hadn’t had enough foreplay to get him slick enough, but the pain eases into a pleasurable burn by the end of it.

Daichi comes first, a choked cry stuck in his throat, as the alpha shoves in one more time, before coming. Daichi has to bite into the pillow to keep quiet when the growing knot is pulled out of him before it becomes too engorged to remove. The sudden emptiness nearly makes Daichi weep, but he manages to cover his near misstep with a forced sound of pleasure. He watches detachedly as the alpha removes the condom, jerkily stroking himself into another, weaker orgasm that spatters across Daichi’s ass. In his post-orgasmic haze, Daichi finds himself idly wishing they wouldn’t have used a condom, just so he can feel a fleeting bit of warmth inside him.

Finished, the alpha collapses on the bed next to him, but doesn’t make any other moves towards him. They hadn’t kissed, and the alpha doesn’t seem intent on doing so now. Daichi tries to bite back the disappointment. There wasn’t even any of the usual affectionate nuzzling afterward, when pheromones still ran high. He had at least hoped that after, he’d receive a brief moment of pure, biological affection.

However, the alpha seems ready to sleep, his body nowhere near Daichi’s, telling him that their brief encounter had concluded.

Knowing better than to overstay his welcome, Daichi pushes himself up, reaching for his abandoned clothes, grimacing a bit at the feel of the alpha’s come still spackling his skin. Grabbing a tissue, he wipes it off, before simply tugging on his clothes. He’ll clean up better when he gets home, but right now, he doesn’t want to stay any longer than he has to.

“Then again, what else can you expect from an omega?”

Daichi shakes his head, attempting to shake off the memories too.

“Wanna do this another time?” the alpha asked sleepily, before Daichi leaves the bedroom.

“Maybe,” Daichi answers, but he’s too tired to even flash the alpha a lackluster smile, before walking out.

Daichi exits the apartment, and heads back to his own place, ignoring the stares of passersby on the sidewalk. Despite feeling exhausted, his blood is still fizzling—unsettled, and when he gets home, he heads straight for his bedroom, shedding his clothes as he goes. Inside his closet, he gets a box out. Opening it, he reaches for his toy—a silicone cock with a thick knot at the base. He doesn’t bother to grab the lube from his bedroom, instead choosing to stay in his closet where he’s already started to build his nest. He’s already stretched out and slick, so it doesn’t take much to work the dildo into him, to rock back into it until he’s at the knot that he’d been denied. It borders on painful, but he finally feels full, which is what he wants.

And here, alone in his nest after an unsatisfying fuck, Daichi lets himself fantasize. Despite knowing how inappropriate it is, he thinks about Kuroo. He thinks of Kuroo’s arms round him, his big hands on his hips, the press of that sharp grin of his against his shoulder. He thinks of what it would be like if Kuroo kissed the blooms in his garden—Daichi lets his hand drift towards the baby’s breath on his arm, just starting to bloom, and—

“Fuck, fuck, Tetsu—” Daichi pants, as he comes hard.

He lies there, for just a moment afterward, still clenching around the toy in him, pretending it’s Kuroo, knotted, inside him. What would it be like to have his weight atop him, during his heat? What would it be like to have a bloom accompanying his own bud that was all Kuroo’s? He wonders even more secretly what it would be like for Kuroo’s bloom to be a forget-me-not. To be chosen and adored and finally kept by someone he loves?

Daichi shakes his head, tearing himself out of his vulnerable little fantasy. He realizes there are tears on his cheeks and he hurriedly wipes them away. With shaking limbs, he cleans up, takes a shower, and puts on some clean pajama pants before curling back into his nest. He should have felt better, but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels even more disappointed. Empty. Lonely.

Then again, he’s never been enough for anyone to stay—and why would they? When there’s nothing for Daichi to offer besides a garden full of wilted blooms?

He lies there for some time in the dark, his hand outstretched in front of him. The loneliness is so overwhelming that Daichi can almost taste it. He considers for a moment, continuing his little fantasy—imagining Kuroo cuddling him in his nest, a soft smile directed only at him, tugging at the corners of his mouth. But just as quickly as it comes, Daichi chases it away, gripping at the cold blankets, while he buries his face in a pillow—scent nearly gone from the last time Suga and Asahi had visited.

Daichi can’t imagine Kuroo looking at him like that, because the truth is that Kuroo would never look at him that way. Never love him. Never keep him. And the sooner he stopped fantasizing about that—someone saying they loved him and actually staying, the sooner he could move on with his life: quietly doing his work, helping people, and simply being dependable and loyal Sawamura Daichi until he died.

He’d been doing it all his life. He could keep doing it. He just has to get over himself.

________________________________________________________________

Daichi still meets up with Kuroo, never mind the baby’s breath buds on his arm, while the ivy of Kuroo’s friendship is clear to see, twining around it. It’s easy, being like this with Kuroo, but not many things in Daichi’s life ever seem to stay easy for long, and the irrevocable change in their relationship is set into motion one night when they’re both grabbing drinks after work.

“Ugh, seriously ruts are terrible. It’s either find someone to share them with, or spend the entire time locked up and causing property damage in my apartment, and finding someone compatible is just such a pain.”

“Mhmm.” Daichi’s listening with half an ear as he chews, used to Kuroo’s complaints about ruts.

“You know, you’re not seeing anyone right now.” If he’d been paying attention, Daichi would have heard the contemplative note in Kuroo’s voice that should have warned him to run far, far, away.

“Yea.” He nods as he wonders vaguely whether he has any eggs at home, or if he needs to stop by the supermarket.

“And as you know, I’m not seeing anyone…” Daichi nods again, as he determines that it’s not just eggs, but he possibly needs to grab some detergent as well. He chews absentmindedly at his skewer, thinking it’d be better to call for the check now so he has enough time to make it to the store.

“So what do you think about being in a no-strings-attached relationship with me?”

“Sure–” Daichi freezes, rewinding the conversation in his mind, before staring, wide-eyed at Kuroo, who’s looking at him with an unfairly neutral gaze. Daichi tears his eyes away, because surely Kuroo's joking, as he laughs stiltedly, “Sorry, I must have misheard. What did you say again?”

“Friends with benefits. I figured since we’re both unattached currently, it’s kind of the best option for both of us. You have someone to help out with your heats, while I don’t have to literally slam my head against the walls when I’m in my ruts.”

Daichi bites his lip as he slants another look at Kuroo, “But didn’t you say that you were getting tired of casual relationships? Especially because…” he trails off, words sitting on his tongue.

You’re still in love with Kenma, aren’t you?

Kuroo’s rueful grin is enough to send warning alarms blaring through Daichi’s head, “Yea,” the other man laughs slightly, “but I guess I’m tired of the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ type of life. I’d rather do this with someone I know and trust. Plus, you’re hot as hell, and I don’t think I’m anything to scoff at either, so this should be a win-win for both of us.” He smiles crookedly, as he looks at Daichi with oh, so, sincere eyes.

Oh. Of course this is all I’m good for.

Daichi’s hand clenches into a fist. He should be used to this. It’s not like this has never happened to him before, but God he’s just so… tired. He should simply suck it up and get used to his role in life—a side character in everyone else’s romance, not meant for more.

It hurts, but he can do this. If this is what Kuroo needs from him, then he can fill that role. He can be ‘dependable Sawamura’ if that’s what’s needed. And if Kuroo needs a friend who he sleeps with when he’s lonely and inevitably moves on from—then Daichi will be that for him as well.

Kuroo is still looking at him, that same hopeful look in his eyes, but also a darker—nearly hungry look as he asks, “So Sa’amura, wanna give this a try?” He gives a cheeky smile as he purrs, “We can even check our compatibility if you’re up for it.”

What Kuroo is offering to him… Daichi’s heart thumps hard in his chest. He’d be so stupid to accept, for this decision will only lead to heartache. The smart thing to do would be to trample the unfurling buds of his love before they can fully bloom… But if this is the only way that Kuroo would ever want him—if this will be one of the few times that he gets to be with someone he loves…

He’ll take what he can get.

“Yes.” He breathes out, closing his eyes so he doesn’t let Kuroo see the tears that want to well up. Grasping for his composure, he opens his eyes, meeting Kuroo’s gaze, and oh, that’s unfair, the small smile that Kuroo is giving him.

He should be happy just for this.

Because Daichi’s not the type of person that anyone has ever wanted to keep.

________________________________________________________________

As if in an unspoken agreement, they finish their drinks quickly, walking back to Kuroo’s apartment, lingering touches slowly growing more frequent, until it’s nearly all they can do to keep their hands off of each other for long enough to get the door to Kuroo’s apartment open and kicked shut behind their frantic movements.

Kuroo’s on him, mouthing at the side of his throat, both hands greedily pushing up his shirt, his long, elegant fingers splaying wide against his skin. Then his hands move to the front of his shirt, nearly tearing it open in his haste to get his hands on Daichi’s bare skin.

Daichi lets Kuroo keep pushing him further back, even as the other man works to get beneath his clothes, until Daichi’s falling back against the bed. He wonders hazily just when they’d managed to get into the bedroom. Kuroo removes his mouth from Daichi’s neck, leaving his skin spit-slick in places and burning. All Daichi can do is melt into Kuroo’s embrace, letting him chase away any thoughts when his mouth traces down his chest, tongue pausing to curl and flick at his nipple. Daichi moans, heat rising within him, but then Kuroo pushes himself up, taking a step back as his dark eyes stare down at Daichi’s nude body, a small sliver of tongue darting out to swipe across his lips. An undignified sound punches out of Daichi’s lungs as he reaches out towards Kuroo.

Kuroo chuckles, “Oh, don’t worry Sa’amura. I’m gonna give you everything you want.”

Daichi barely gets enough time to brace himself before he’s jolting at the brush of contact on his thighs, tracing upwards, before Kuroo’s grabbing one of his legs, throwing it over his shoulder, forcing Daichi’s hips to tilt up, and then he feels a finger brushing between the cheeks of his ass circling there, light, teasing—

He can’t help the gasp that falls from him. And then Kuroo’s pressing against the ring of muscle, not hard, but enough for one finger to sink inside, Daichi opening easily around him as Kuroo presses further. His hips twitch fruitlessly as he clenches around the finger, whining slightly because it’s not enough. “Shh, I told you I’d give you what you want.”

And then another finger slides in alongside the first, fast and rough, opening him up so good that he writhes on the bed. “Yeah, you’re doing so good,” Kuroo tells him, and Daichi nods frantically, because he wants to be so good for Kuroo.

Two fingers quickly turn to three, Kuroo’s pace is merciless, but Daichi welcomes it, and the heat curling low in his belly is only stoked higher with each movement of Kuroo’s fingers. “Please,” he gasps out, because he’s so close to coming, but he doesn’t want to—not like this. “Wait—wait.”

Kuroo stills the movement of his fingers, before slowly withdrawing them with a squelch that would have had Daichi absolutely crimson at any other time. Instead, Daichi takes a second to grasp onto control, pushing Kuroo slightly away to give him space to turn, going to his hands and knees in a practiced motion.

Kuroo hesitates behind him, his weight shifting on the bed. With careful hands, he maneuvers Daichi around, so that Daichi’s facing him.

“What’s wrong?” Daichi asks muzzily, because he thought that Kuroo wanted to fuck him?

“Nothing, just wanted to see you better.” Kuroo murmurs, dipping his head to nip at Daichi’s chest.

Daichi tilts his head, a playful smile pulling at his lips. “But I thought you were going to fuck me?”

“What? Do you only have sex on your hands and knees?” Kuroo shoots back sarcastically, distractedly mouthing at Daichi’s neck, as he grinds his hips against Daichi’s.

The smile nearly slips from Daichi’s face, but he holds onto it by dint of sheer practice. He’s never had sex with any of his other partners face to face.

Instead of answering Kuroo’s question, he spreads his legs wider, hoping to distract the other man in dropping his question. Luckily, it seems to work, as Kuroo groans, fingers rubbing again at Daichi’s entrance, eyes hungrily fixed on his face. “You’re dripping for it.”

Daichi’s eyes slide shut, because he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to gracefully leave if he sees what Kuroo looks like when he’s making love with fucking him. He peels open his eyes anyway when the head of Kuroo’s cock catches on the rim of his hole and then begins to push in. He stares up at Kuroo with parted lips and hoarse gasps as that slippery, rounded head pushes past the ring of muscles and expands his hole until he’s burning, burning with both the pain and escalating need. He embraces the pain, pushing down on the thick cock to help welcome it in, letting out choked, gasping breaths as he feels each and every inch of it sliding into him, slowly, relentlessly. A shiver skates down his spine as the head of Kuroo’s cock grazes his prostate—so much more sensitive in his pseudo-heat.

Whatever happens afterward, he will have this. He’ll always have this.

His first orgasm strikes him seconds after Kuroo is deep inside him to the hilt. He can feel the brush of Kuroo’s dark, coarse pubic hair against his sensitive skin as his cock rams against his prostate, and it’s at that point that Daichi’s brain completely fizzles out, because Kuroo feels so damn perfect in him, filling all the emptiness in him, stretching him open so wide and so fucking good, like he was made for the other man. His back arches off the bed, off the smooth sheets. He convulses and clenches around Kuroo, moaning loudly as he comes in spurts all over his belly and chest.

After he's collapsed back onto the bed, panting, his eyelids fluttering, Kuroo starts to fuck him in earnest, pulling out until only the head of his cock remains inside, then thrusting back into the hilt in one go. Daichi moans with every thrust, as each one jolts him up the bed and back. He scrabbles for something, anything to cling to, to sink his nails into, keening when he feels Kuroo’s hands trace around the back of his thighs, before squeezing hard. Blindly wrapping his trembling hands over Kuroo’s, Daichi lets out a high-pitched groan and throws his head back when Kuroo spreads his thighs even wider, allowing Kuroo to move even deeper inside him.

Kuroo is saying something to him, his voice low, husky, and sensual, but Daichi can't comprehend what he’s saying. His back arches and he gulps down heaving breaths. Still, still he forces his brimming, hazy eyes open. He wants to see Kuroo come. He wants to see Kuroo come inside him.

He shivers when he realizes that Kuroo is now leaning over him, propped up on his arm while Kuroo’s hand is grasping his ankle and bending his leg even higher up and farther away from his bowed body. Kuroo’s thrusts are determined and deep and fast. He still hasn't come yet, while Daichi is shaking apart.

Reaching up, he winds his arms around Kuroo’s neck, tries to bring his head down and into a kiss. Instead, Kuroo dips that head of disheveled, dark hair and presses his warm face to the side of Daichi’s neck, mouthing at it. Daichi desperately tries to ignore the instant hurt from the rejection as Kuroo continues to thrust into him, harder, harder. He clutches at Kuroo’s back, staring blindly at the ceiling and he feels something scalding and wet roll down his temples from his eyes.

Luckily, Kuroo’s face is obscured in the side of his neck, intent on his own orgasm, while Daichi stares and stares up at the ceiling blindly as silent tears blur his vision. He refuses to acknowledge the tiny, anguished sound that escapes his throat as Kuroo thrusts one more time and then also comes, filling the condom and groaning into Daichi’s scorching skin.

It doesn't matter that Kuroo doesn’t want to kiss him. It doesn't matter that Kuroo only wants to be friends with benefits. It doesn't matter that Kuroo won't let him see his face when he comes. It doesn't matter.

Daichi tells himself this.

Maybe if he says it enough times, it’ll make it true.

He startles when Kuroo abruptly pulls out, and Daichi immediately dashes away his tears as he tries to sit up—it seems like Kuroo’s finished with him now—but he’s immediately shoved back down on the bed, Kuroo purring at him. “Where do you think you’re going? You didn’t think we were finished yet, did you?”

And normally, Daichi would have been bristling at this—would have snapped right back at any alpha that would have said this, but with Kuroo, he can’t help but preen inside at the fact that he is apparently desirable enough that Kuroo wants to keep going. Pushing his heartache down, he pulls up a practiced smile as he shifts his thighs apart the slightest bit, reaching his hand down to spread his hole while murmuring, “Then fuck me like you mean it.”

Kuroo growls, eyes burning into his, and Daichi only has enough time for a startled inhalation, before he’s flipped onto his stomach, hips jerked up and ready, as Kuroo curses and fumbles to roll another condom on. He arches his back, urging Kuroo on. “Come on, hurry, please, please ple—ah!”

Kuroo kicks his legs even further apart and sinks into him again, Daichi loose enough to accept him easily, even if he’s still raw and tender, even if it’s bordering on too much too much too much. He’d challenged Kuroo to fuck him even harder, but when he begins to fuck him again, Daichi realizes quickly that Kuroo had definitely been holding back the first time. His fingers twist into the sheets on either side of his head as he instinctively bites down on the sheets as well, needing something, anything, between his teeth.

And even though it’s nearly too much, he still tries to circle his hips, tries to fuck himself back on Kuroo’s cock, reduced to a choked, completely undone mess. He's too gone right now to think about how revolting he is, to try to pretend like this is more than it is, when all Kuroo wants is a no strings attached fuck. But this is familiar territory—on his hands and knees while some warm body pounds into him. It’s probably a good thing that Kuroo can’t see his face right now. He's dirty and disgusting and disgraceful, he really is and he's certain he’ll be feeling the brunt of all this—of everything when this is all over, and he isn't behaving like the wild, fuck-stupid Omega he is.

But Kuroo is rasping indiscernible words into the skin of his nape, and Daichi shudders—Kuroo's mouth so, so close to his bonding gland.

Yes, please, keep me, he aches to say, to moan, to scream aloud. Take me, claim me, make me yours forever.

But he keeps his silence while Kuroo caresses down the flanks of his satisfied body, moving up the curve of his back, and down the length of his arms. Daichi shudders, feeling Kuroo still deep inside him, filling him up, making him whole, and he takes comfort in the fact that he’s still with him, if only in body.

Yes, whatever happens afterward, he’ll have this. It’s more than he ever thought he’d be allowed to have. At least he’ll have this memory to remember when he won’t be allowed to touch and taste and smell Kuroo anymore.

Daichi has had a lot of practice lying to others, and is even better at lying to himself. So telling himself that he’s okay with this is easy.

Nothing’s wrong. For a little while, Daichi can have what he always wanted and be a good friend to Kuroo at the same time. Because that's what he is. A good friend to Kuroo.

Nothing more.

____________________________________________________________________

Contentedly enjoying Kuroo’s warmth and scent, Daichi drifts down from his post orgasmic high, when he’s brutally reminded of the true nature of what had just happened, as he hears Kuroo’s apologetic voice, “Sorry. I didn’t think I’d keep you so long. I don’t even think the trains are still running.”

All remaining languor is immediately chased from him as Daichi takes in a long, slow breath. He should have known.

Of course there would be no gentle words, no lying content in the aftermath as sleep weaves her gentle arms around them—no. That’s not meant for him. Not for someone who bore so many dead flowers on their skin, choking the few living flowers in their garden.

How stupid of him.

Daichi heaves himself out of the bed, mechanically looking for his clothes as he begins dressing himself, not bothering to wipe himself down. It’s another ritual that he’s used to after all—quickly getting out of an alpha’s apartment after a no-strings fuck.

He spies his shirt, hurriedly shrugging it on. “Yea, I think if I hurry, I can still make it.”

Kuroo pushes himself up, giving Daichi a concerned look. “Are you sure, Sa'amura?”

Daichi glances over to Kuroo. He’s nearly staggered by the fierce way his chest aches when he looks at the man, gently hazed in yellow by the streetlights shining in through the slats of the blinds. The concern in Kuroo’s eyes touches him. After all, Kuroo is above all a caring friend—despite what people like to think because of his looks, Kuroo is one of the kindest people he knows. However, one thing that Daichi understands well is how to leave when he’s no longer needed.

Daichi forces a reassuring smile, “No worries. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

His hands clumsily button up his shirt just enough to be decent, before he turns to leave, “Have a good night, Tetsurou.”

And with that, he makes his way out of Kuroo’s apartment, shutting the door gently behind him. He scrubs harshly at his burning eyes as he walks, berating himself for his stupid wish that Kuroo wanted him to stay. One day, Daichi hopes, he’ll no longer dream of a genuine love for someone like him.

For now though, Daichi just quietly made his way back to his apartment, hoping for a dreamless sleep in his empty bed.

A sleep where he didn't have to remember the times that made him once feel hopeful.

A sleep where he could forget about any and all desire that lingered for a normal life with someone that could love him as much as he loved them.

Because dreams? Dreams fucking hurt.