campfire in your chest

by deanpendragon

Summary:

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he's probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he's at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

Notes:

• Translation into Italiano available: Campfire in your Chest by acatinahat

Chapter 1: before he's even aware

If Kei didn’t have glasses, he really wouldn’t mind the snow at all.

But this is not the case. So when he looks out of his window that morning, he's even more displeased than usual. He grimaces and dreads a morning walk of either blurry half-blindness or constant cleaning of his spectacles on a wet coat that would probably make his glasses unnecessary anyway. He shoves his feet into two socks each and hopes it’s only powder outside and that maybe it won’t stick. He hopes this not for his own sake but for Yamaguchi’s, who is extremely clumsy when it comes to the elements. Kei might think it was endearing if it didn’t set him on edge thinking Yamaguchi’d slip and crack his freckled face open with each step.

His phone buzzes on his desk. Kei puffs out a breath when he sees the name—who else would be texting him this early, anyway?—and flicks the screen open. He wonders why he even bothers looking out his window when Yamaguchi texts him every morning that the weather dares to drum up anything but clouds and sunshine.

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: SNOW

it’s snowing tsukki

   

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:SNOW

Sure is Yamaguchi

   

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:SNOW

!!! well just make sure you wear your heavy coat n stuff

   

Kei stares at the excessive punctuation before shoving his phone into his one of his pockets; the square, wool-lined pockets of his heavy blue jacket he’d been instructed to wear. Of course he would’ve worn it anyway. Another glance out the window has him groaning loudly.

“Are you okay?” his mother asks when he walks into the kitchen.

“Yes. Why?”

“You yelled like you’d been shot!”

“I wish,” Kei mumbles. “Then I wouldn’t have to go out in this shitty weather.”

She sets a small plate of food in front of him, claiming, “You’re so dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he agrees.

He stands from the chair as soon as he’d sat down and slings his light backpack over his shoulder. As his hand rests on the doorknob, he shivers like he’s already out in the street.

“Leaving already? Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’ll get something at Yamaguchi’s. You have it,” Kei says and gives her a convincing smile.

“Well, wear a hat, won’t you? Your mittens are already in your coat pockets.”

“Thanks.”

Kei grabs a hat that hangs over the shoe rack and stuffs it in the empty oversized pocket. He slides out his front door and immediately sniffles, slinking silently through the snow.

__________

 
The flakes fall consistently on his short walk to Yamaguchi’s and yet the sun threatens to peek out from behind the cloud cover. It’s like it’s taunting him. Kei only remembers to pull his hat over his head when he knocks repeatedly at Yamaguchi’s red front door.

It swings open and he sees a glance of a freckled face before he’s pulled through the doorway by the sleeve of his jacket. He immediately perks up at the warmth of the house and breathes deeply, detecting the scent of coffee. He doesn’t hear his stomach growl over the sound of Yamaguchi slamming the door behind them.

“Morning, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, arms wrapped around himself. He’s still in a t-shirt. His voice quakes and he rubs his bare arms to warm them up, saying, “It’s freezing out there.”

“Morning. I know,” Kei replies and subdues a final shiver.

He wastes no time sliding his glasses off and uses the hem of Yamaguchi’s t-shirt sleeve to wipe the moisture off until he’s sure they’re completely clear.

“No, please, go ahead,” the Yamaguchi-shaped-blur insists with what Kei is pretty sure is a roll of his eyes. The blob continues, “Dad made you some coffee if you want to drink it in there while I change. I’ll be back down in a second.”

Kei sets his glasses back on his face and is pleased with the results but is thrilled at the mention of coffee.

“Sure thing. How’d you all know I was coming?” he asks Yamaguchi’s back as the boy retreats up the stairs.

Yamaguchi spins around and gives him a look.

“Well, it’s snowing,” he says dumbly.

“That it is,” he nods, though it’s mostly to himself. Yamaguchi’s sprinted upstairs already and Kei hears the click of his bedroom door closing. He doesn’t linger on the fact that he knows the specific sound and instead wanders into the kitchen to greet Yamaguchi’s father and, more importantly, his coffee.

__________

  

to: Tadashi★

subject: —

Your dad says don't forget to put on a couple pairs of socks

     

to: Tadashi★

subject: —

Preferably Pokémon ones

 

__________

They’re not five yards from Yamaguchi’s house when he suddenly slides forward and Kei has to grab onto his hood to balance him.

“You suck so hard,” Kei insists, amused.

“You suck,” Yamaguchi replies automatically, but it sounds distant. He’s putting all his focus into watching his feet as they walk through the thin sheet of powder that covers the sidewalk. Kei watches him watch his feet for a minute before looking forward again.

“Just hold on to me,” Kei suggests with a habitual roll of his eyes.

Yamaguchi scrunches his nose up in determination and insists that he can do it on his own. Kei just rolls his eyes again. Besides, he’s steady at his friend’s side anyway, reflexes quick and practiced and waiting for Yamaguchi to make any sudden movements.

“Are you wearing your Pokémon socks?”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi laughs brightly, rivaling the sun as it's finally decided to make an appearance from behind the opaque clouds. “My lucky Oddish socks.”

“Your father specifically requested them.”

“He so did not,” Yamaguchi sasy and rolls his eyes, finally turning from the ground to look up at Kei.

The frosty winter air blushes his cheeks and though it sort of dulls his freckles, Kei thinks it just makes them stand out all the more. On the next step, Yamaguchi slides ungracefully forward again. He’s halfway to the snowy ground and then Kei’s crouching behind him, arms slipped around his slight waist. He moves to set Yamaguchi back safely on the pavement but instead just lifts him in the air and lets him dangle. Yamaguchi making a squawking noise that Kei’s only pretty sure is human.

“You’re so fucking hopeless,” he says into the side of Yamaguchi’s shoulder.

“I’m not—I—I swear I’m not—” Yamaguchi’s laughing, cackling even, shaking again Kei’s chest, “Tsukki, come on, let me down. I swear I won’t—ah! Ah ha!”

Kei feels golden with Yamaguchi happy and chattering, the frost biting at both their cheeks and the timid winter sun lighting him up.

He feels absolutely golden. He doesn’t want to think about the long school day ahead of them once they reach their destination. He doesn’t want to think about volleyball practice and the chaos it brings—even more so than last year since the third years had graduated a few months prior. He’d rather walk forever, hovering beside Yamaguchi with his arms outstretched protectively. His cheeks blush involuntarily at the thought and he sets the other boy back on his feet. Yamaguchi’s tanned face is still red, equal parts from laughing and the cold.

“I told you I wouldn’t fall again, I mean I won’t—”

He’s not even had the time to put pressure on the nudge he tries to give Kei’s shoulder before he slips again. This time, Yamaguchi’s arms flail out and he wisely wraps them around Kei’s, saddling him to his side. Kei's teeth chatter when the frigid wind whips by.

“Hopeless,” he repeats, the warmth at his side feeling pleasant compared to the winter chill that envelopes the rest of him.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi grins, “but you said I could hold on to you.”

His cheeks are even redder than before, but Kei’s probably just projecting.

“As long as you don’t slip and die. I’d have to clean your frozen brains off the street and find a new pinch server. Ennoshita would literally murder me. And I think Kageyama’s head would explode. Then I’d have to clean his brains off the gym floor,” Kei groans before adding, “though I’d probably just make Hinata do it.”

“How can you be so dark this early in the day?”

“It’s my talent.”

“Always has been.”

The school looms in the distance, its visage only slightly obscured by the snowfall. They’re walking in sync now, Kei notices. Yamaguchi’s gone back to looking hard at his feet. He takes this as a free pass to watch his face, dark eyes sharp and focused in the bright scenery. The corner of his mouth is quirked up like he’s just told himself a joke in his head. Kei looks away.

“What’s so lucky about them anyway?” Kei asks of the aforementioned socks.

“I dunno yet.”

“You don’t know?”

Yamaguchi shakes his head. "Nope."

Kei hums. The freckled teen turns a quick smile on him that makes Kei’s head spin.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait for something good to happen while I’m wearing them, huh, Tsukki?”

__________

 
“Hey, Hinata.”

Hinata pulls the yellow water bottle from his flushed face and says, “What?”

“If Kageyama’s head were to explode all over the gym floor, would you clean up his brains?”

“Wha—?”

Hinata pauses and stares into space, eyes crinkling. Kei’s not sure if he’s ever seen him think this hard about something in the year and a half he’s known him. Kageyama stops softly setting a ball into the air from where he stands a few yards away and holds it in his hands to listen. Hinata turns around to eye him, still considering before he turns back to Yamaguchi.

“Why can’t he just do it?” the redhead asks genuinely.

“Idiot,” Kei accuses, “because his head’s exploded. He’s dead, or some variation of that.”

“Am not,” Kageyama says.

Kei and Yamaguchi ignore him and the latter asks again, “So would you?”

“Only if he’d do it for me,” Hinata decides. “I’m not cleaning up the brains of someone who wouldn’t do the same for me.”

“Fair enough,” Yamaguchi says.

“What about it then, Kageyama?”

They all turn to the setter who now holds the volleyball under his arm and may be blushing a bit if Kei didn’t know any better.

He shrugs a lazy shoulder before he answers,  “Sure.”

“Nice, Kageyama!” Hinata shouts happily and scrambles off the gym floor to lunge at him.

Ennoshita seemingly materializes out of thin air to grab Hinata by the back of his t-shirt before he smashes into Kageyama’s side. He tuts at them and pushes Hinata back toward the court.

“Just so you guys know, I wouldn’t clean up any of your brains,” Ennoshita declares proudly.

“Not even mine?” Nishinoya and Tanaka shout in unison from the far doorway.

“Not even your own?” Kageyama asks their captain distractedly, watching Hinata walk away.

Kei snorts. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Makes about as much sense as your face!” Hinata shouts from the other end of the gym where he’s been banished.

Ennoshita glares at him and Hinata looks shocked before vaguely waving towards Kei and Yamaguchi.

“They started it!”

“It’s true,” Yamaguchi admits, “we did kind of start it.”   

_________

 
People break up. Kei knows this.

He’d seen it with his parents when he was six. He’d seen it with his aunt and uncle when he was eleven. He sees it all the time in books and movies and comics he’s just a little embarrassed to be reading. He’d seen it time and time again with his brother when Akiteru was in high school; girls he talked about for weeks who’d come over for dinner once and then Kei would never see or hear about them again. His brother was cool, magnetic, fun—Kei didn’t understand. 

“What ever happened to that one girl who came over before?” Kei asks. Akiteru turns away from the book on his desk to look at Kei who sits cross-legged on the elder Tsukishima’s bed. He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head. Kei looks back down to the dinosaur book on his lap.

“Who?”

“She had glasses,” Kei answers, adjusting his own. “And short, brown hair.”

Akiteru kisses his teeth and says, “We don’t really talk anymore, I guess.”

“She was nice.”

“Eh?” Akiteru grins. “You think so, Kei?”

“Most of the girls who’ve come over here have been nice,” Kei lies; he doesn’t really pay much attention to them, though he sits a mere three feet away during every dinnertime conversation. “Did they break up with you?”

“Hey!” Akiteru shouts. “Why do you assume they broke up with me and I didn’t break up with them?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference,” Kei replies honestly.

“Sure it does,” Akiteru sighs. “But, it’s just…I don’t know.”

“Hm?” Kei turns to look up at him, brows pulled together.

“I should’ve just stayed friends with some of them.”

Kei absently turns the page of his book.

“…Can’t you be friends with someone even if you’ve broken up?”

Akiteru shrugs his shoulders and turns back to his desk.

“No. It’s different, after that.”

“Different,” Kei repeats.

“Yeah, Kei. You’ll get it when you’re older.”

Kei hated when people said that and still does. Seven years later and he still can’t wholly relate to what his brother had told him when he was ten because the only person who’d stuck around for more than a couple days was Yamaguchi—is Yamaguchi. He isn’t bothered by this fact nearly as much as he thinks other people might be.

Kei thinks about all the girls over the past year and a half of high school who’ve approached him. He thinks of their pink and red bows in their glossy hair, socks pulled up mid-calf, their pretty eyes shining as they’d pushed their gifts into his pale hands. Sometimes he wishes he got more out of it than he does. Sometimes he wishes he wanted their attention and affection and compliments, like Tanaka-san. He wishes he could drum up some amount of sympathy for them when he turns them down. Keep the gifts, they say glumly when he tries to hand them back, I got them for you, so you might as well have them.

So he tosses the cards into the club room’s trash and shares the sweets with Yamaguchi—who always says he feels a little guilty eating them—and even with Kageyama and Hinata if he’s feeling particularly content that day. He listens to them bicker with passion suited for more than just their harmless rivalry and watches Yamaguchi’s fingers as he delicately folds up the tiny sheets of foil the chocolates come wrapped in.

Friends can become lovers, sure, Kei thinks idly, but what about getting back to friends again when the love part inevitably goes wrong?

__________

 

from: hinata shouyou!

subject: HELPPPP!!!

YAMAGUCHI tobio n i have found a cat outside sakanoshita

   

“Who?” Kei asks, looking over Yamaguchi’s shoulder at his phone.

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow at him and Kei stares.

“Tobio?” he says. Kei stares harder. “Kageyama-kun, Tsukki!”

“Right. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Hinata call him that.”

“Hm,” Yamaguchi hums. “Maybe Kageyama hasn’t either.”

“What do you mean?”

Yamaguchi’s too busy typing out a response to answer.

   

to: hinata shouyou!

subject: Re:HELPPPP!!!

is it cute? hinata why is the subject line HELP??

     

from: hinata shouyou!

subject: Re:HELPPPP!!!

its rly rly cute but we don't know what to do w it!!

     

to: hinata shouyou!

subject: Re:HELPPPP!!!

Don't do anything with it stupid it’s a cat just let it live.

     

to: hinata shouyou!

subject: Re:HELPPPP!!!

that was tsukki!! :< we’ll be there

     

“Do we have to?” Kei whines. “It’s just a cat. They’re all over the place.”

Yamaguchi pats his shoulder and tucks his phone back in his pocket. When it rings jubilantly with Hinata’s reply, he doesn’t check it.

“We’ll pass right by them on the way home. Besides, he said it was really cute.”

“He has really low standards.”

Yamaguchi chirps out a laugh.

“I’ll buy you a popsicle if you stop bitching.”

“I wasn’t bitching.”

“Sounded like bitching,” Yamaguchi beams.

“If you insist,” Kei folds, turning over his shoulder to observe how the last sliver of sun rips oranges and pinks throughout the sky. His bones feel heavy from practice and his bag makes his shoulder ache. He slips it off to carry it in his hand instead.

“Your shoulder hurts?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Poor Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says genuinely. He turns to give Kei a frown but perks up quickly as he continues, “You worked really hard today. I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not surprised that I worked hard?”

“I meant I’m not surprised that you’re sore, silly.”

“Right,” Kei nods. They walk a few more steps and Kei hesitates a bit with what he wants to ask.

“Does it still surprise you when I work hard?”

“No, never,” Yamaguchi answers immediately, brows furrowed in a concentrated rather than confused fashion. “Er, not anymore. You know.”

Kei knows they’ve both changed in the last year and talking about it seems redundant. Motivators have arisen and perspectives have shifted. But Yamaguchi gets this focused glint in his eyes whenever it’s brought up; by Kei (in very rare moments when he’s feeling especially sentimental), by Coach Ukai, by Yachi, or by any of the third-years. It’s a new look on Yamaguchi.

It’s confidence. Kei thinks it suits him better than any color on the goddamn spectrum.

“Hey! Yamaguchi! Tsukishima!”

Kei barely has time to turn away from Yamaguchi before he’s knocking into Hinata and—something else. The fur ball blinks at him with giant yellow eyes and Kei blinks back down at it. Hinata thrusts the cat up to his face.

“I told you it was cute,” he says.

“It’s bad luck.”

“Come on, Tsukki, you don’t believe that.”

Yamaguchi gingerly takes the black cat from Hinata and cradles her against his chest. The creature relaxes immediately and glares at her initial capturers. Kageyama glares back from where he stands behind Hinata and Kei watches him amusedly. The cat rubs her face enthusiastically against Kei’s fingers when he reaches to pet her.

“Kageyama, don't you like cats?” Hinata asks, whirling around to face him. Kageyama kicks at the dirt with his sneaker.

“Yeah, sure. But they don't like me.”

“Sure they do,” whines the redhead. “You only think that because I was hogging her before. Yamaguchi, give her over to Kageyama.”

Kageyama tries to protest but Yamaguchi’s goes to him and gently hands over the dark mass of fur. Yamaguchi makes a soft sound as she practically leaps into Kageyama’s arms and curls into him.

“Ha! See, I told you!”

“She likes you, Kageyama,” Yamaguchi agrees.

Kei snickers. “Bet that’s the first time he’s ever heard that.”

“Shut up,” Kageyama and Hinata growl harmlessly before turning back to fawn over the fluffy feline.

Kei leans forward to tug on Yamaguchi’s sleeve.

“Ice pop?” he says.

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes but a fond smile grows on his lips. Kei’s eyes snap down to them before he has a chance to stop himself. Straight, white teeth beam through the dimming sunlight.

“Yeah, Tsukki.”

Yamaguchi’s head is turned over his shoulder as they walk the the doors of the shop. He watches the other two second-years, orange hair contrasting against shining black as their heads press together over the unfortunate cat. Kageyama looks not at the creature, but at Hinata next to him. Kei would laugh if there wasn’t something in the way he was staring that looks familiar, almost. Dark blue eyes snap to meet golden brown and he squints like he dares Kei to say something. Kei turns to face forward and tugs Yamaguchi’s sleeve again so he’ll do the same.

“They’re cute,” Yamaguchi comments softly.

Kei tries to place the emotion but he can’t. He pays for both of their popsicles even though Yamaguchi protests and then they’re back outside, the sun having finally disappeared behind the mountain. A deep purple blots the cloudless sky.

“I think you’ve bothered it enough,” Kei insists of the cat still in Kageyama’s arms.

Hinata makes kissing noises at her and Kageyama looks pointedly away.

“See you guys tomorrow!” Yamaguchi says and waves at the two of them.

An outside light from Sakanoshita illuminates with a faint blip and all four boys blink at the sudden brightness. Kageyama finally lets the cat down onto the pavement with a soft “bye, cat” and Hinata runs his hand up her long, twisting tail before finally letting her be. Kei hears clicking as Hinata pulls his bike up from where he'd abandoned it on the ground earlier.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going too. Gotta get this ‘fraidy cat home before it’s completely black outside.”

“Hey!” Kageyama starts, bringing a sturdy palm to the back of Hinata’s head.

“Shut up, Kageyama! We all know you’re afraid of the dark, it’s not a secret anymore, ever since—”

“Hinata, you dumbass, can you not!”

“—ever since that one team sleepover at Sugawara-san’s last year when—”

“Stop that!”

“Team sleepovers,” Yamaguchi grins as he and Kei walk the opposite way of the duo. “We should do another one of those.”

“Please,” Kei warns, giving him a sharp look. “Do not bring that up to any of them. Especially Nishinoya.”

“I won’t have to. Pretty sure Hinata’s already got the idea in his head.”

“It’d be the only thing he has in his head.”

“So mean, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi scolds, but links his arm with Kei’s for the briefest moment anyway.

Notes:

check out the very first fanart made for campfire and read on, my dudes.

Chapter 2: sometimes they call it an epiphany

Notes:

ayo. in this chapter, kei has an anxiety attack after his dream. it doesn't go super into detail but some important stuff happens plot-wise during it. nothing like this happens in future chapters. regardless, if you don't wanna have to read it then i suggest you skip from ctrl+F "under his jaw" until "his gaze won’t lift from the floor"!

as always, comments and kudos are appreciated bc ILU!!!

The Yamaguchi house is always cold, Kei knows, even if he’s only been here a handful of times. He always reminds himself to wear a sweatshirt when he sleeps over. He’s still not quite used to sleeping at a house that isn’t his, and it always takes him a little while to fall asleep here. The whir of the small fan in the corner of Yamaguchi’s room isn’t as soothing as it was earlier in the night. Now it’s just loud and disruptive. He wonders if Yamaguchi would mind if Kei turns it off. He leans up on his elbow to peer over the edge of Yamaguchi’s bed. It takes his eyes a good minute to adjust in the twilight, especially without his glasses.

It’s empty. The comforter lies twisted upon the mattress like a gnarled tree root.

“Um…” Kei says aloud to the empty room.

His voice sounds loud even over the churning fan. Should he just try to go back to sleep? Did hosts usually go missing halfway through sleepovers like this? Yamaguchi hadn’t done that before. Accepting that he’s basically awake, Kei grabs his glasses from the desk and slips them on. He remembers something about Yamaguchi being weird about chaotic weather, so Kei rises from his warm futon to look out the bedroom window.

The night sky is calm, a tree in the backyard barely twitching in the gentle wind.

He sits back down on the futon for a few more minutes with his legs pulled up underneath him. When Yamaguchi doesn’t return, Kei finally wonders if he should go find him. He would feel weird stalking though the sleeping household on his own, but not any weirder than he feels sitting in the darkness of Yamaguchi’s bedroom without him even in it. So Kei stands back up.

He pads out of the bedroom, taking calculated steps to avoid running into anything. The only light aiding him shines from the opposite end of the hallway; the bathroom. Kei lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s about to turn back when he realizes that the bathroom door’s not even closed. It’s wide open. He stops just before breaching the doorway to listen for something. He’s not quite sure what he expects to hear (Yamaguchi peeing? The sink running? Couldn’t be the shower; he would’ve been able to distinguish that one easily).

Kei’s face pales when he hears a sniffle.

A couple more sniffles and a slight sob later and Kei can’t just stand there listening anymore, but he can’t turn back either. So he steps forward into the doorway and squints in the bright bathroom lights. Yamaguchi’s up on the counter, face pressed close to the mirror. There’s another sniffle; Yamaguchi hasn’t noticed him there yet. A small yellow pouch Kei recognizes as Yamaguchi’s pencil bag lays next to him on the vanity, unzipped.

“What are you doing?”

Yamaguchi flinches so hard that he nearly falls off the counter and onto the bathroom floor. He pulls the white pencil eraser, near gray in some spots with lead, from his cheek but doesn’t set it down. His small hand hovers in the air in front of his chest.

“What’s that?” Kei asks.

He furrows his brow and looks on as Yamaguchi’s brown eyes start to well with tears. Kei feels frozen to the spot, bare feet on the cool bathroom tile. What would Akiteru do if I were crying?, he thinks, but can’t for the life of him come up with anything. He adjusts his glasses to have something to do with his hands in the stagnant moment.

“Yamaguchi, what are you trying to erase?” Kei asks although he already knows the answer.

“Sorry, T-Tsukki,” Yamaguchi answers automatically. “It’s nothing. I wanted to go to bed, but.” Another slight sob has Kei wishing he was somebody else so he’d know what to do. Yamaguchi continues after a deep breath, “I kept thinking about those guys in the park and—”

“What were you trying to erase?” Kei repeats, voice quieter now.

“F-Freckles.”

Just the word seems like a curse coming out of Yamaguchi’s mouth. Kei doesn’t understand. Of all the things that could reduce the boy to this state—crying in his bathroom in the middle of the night, scrubbing at his red face with a pencil eraser—and it’s his freckles? The first thing Kei thinks bitterly is, you’re too old to think that’ll work, but the second, softer thing he thinks is, I think they’re interesting. They distinguish you from all the other kids.

But Kei realizes after some consideration that they’re also what makes Yamaguchi different from them. And Kei knows which one elementary school kids pick up on more easily. He tries to choose his next words carefully; something he means, because he’s nothing if not honest, but also something he knows Yamaguchi will respond to. Kei casually shrugs his shoulder.

“I think they’re cool.”

Yamaguchi flinches again. The eraser slips out of his hand and bounces into the sink. Yamaguchi brings his pajama sleeve to his eyes and wipes the wetness from his face.

“Y—you…” he tries.

Kei nods. “They’re no big deal. Kids are just jerks.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whines, looking like he wants to cry again.

Kei doesn’t know why he’s blushing, but he feels heat rise on his cheeks. He walks to the sink and plucks the eraser from it. He zips it back in the pencil bag without a word. Yamaguchi slides off the counter and Kei sees his cheeks are flaming, too.

“You have freckles,” he tells him. “So what?”

Yamaguchi watches him, not sure how to respond.

Kei continues, “I’ve got big feet. And I have horrible eyesight. So what?”

“…So what,” Yamaguchi reiterates, a faint smile flickering on his flushed face.

“Yeah,” Kei gives him a final, reassuring nod. He sets Yamaguchi’s yellow pencil pouch back on the bathroom counter. Yamaguchi glances at it quickly before looking to the floor. His wide eyes snap up to Kei’s when Kei speaks again.

“So can we go sleep now?”

A real smile blossoms on his freckled face.

“Thanks, Tsukki. Sure, Tsukki.”

Yamaguchi flips off the bathroom light and rushes to follow Kei back down the dark hallway.

Quietly, he hears his friend say, “Sorry, Tsukki.”

Kei wakes with a start, bumping his elbow against his bedroom wall and wincing at the resounding thud. He sits up in his bed and tosses the covers to the side. He rubs at his elbow for a second before digging the heels of his palms, still warm from clutching his comforter, into his eyes. He presses until he sees sparks.

He hasn’t thought about that night in a long time.

In the dream, the memory, Yamaguchi’s hallway seemed so big. It seemed like he’d walked for miles before reaching the yellow light leaking from the doorway of the bathroom. He remembers the darkness of it, the way it encapsulated them as they’d returned to the chill of Yamaguchi’s bedroom. He vaguely remembers his fingers twitching to reach out and touch some part of Yamaguchi, just to let him know he was there. He wanted to feel with his hands the very place Yamaguchi had held that eraser.

No, no, no, no, no, Kei thinks, slamming back down onto his mattress. I wasn’t thinking that at the time.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees faint sparks dancing on the backs of his eyelids.

“Then why does it seem so familiar?” he mutters aloud.

He wants to ignore this, wants to fold his comforter back over himself and bury his head in his pillow and go back to sleep. But he’s always been more sentimental in the cover of night and he’s restless now. His heartbeat quickens until he can hear it pounding in his ears in the deathly silence of his bedroom. He presses two fingers under his jaw.

The chaos of his pulse scares him.

He shuts his eyes, his body feeling heavier than holy hell on his mattress, and tries to reflect. He pushes aside the dream and reaches for the memory, the true memory he knows is in his head somewhere. He lets himself feel the chill of the Yamaguchi household through his old elementary school sweatshirt. He digs deeper until he’s able to pluck his own words from the memory and drop them into now.

“So can we go sleep now?” Kei quotes himself, barely audible over the racing of his stupid heart.

He remembers exiting the bathroom, the faint click of Yamaguchi shutting the lights off. It swallowed the hallway in black and Kei had to take calculated steps once again to make sure he was going the right way. He remembers wanting to innocently reach out, maybe to feel for a wall or something to guide him safely through the night.

Yamaguchi had been behind him, his presence slight and stumbling but very much there, and Kei wanted to clap him on the shoulder, maybe touch his arm for a second to let him know he was there too. Kei remembers his fists balling up in the ratty sleeves of his elementary school sweatshirt. He remembers willing his arms to hang heavy at his sides. He remembers wanting them not to stray; not to swing to coax Yamaguchi through the bedroom doorway with a hand at his back or on his shoulder, and definitely not—definitely not—wanting to let his cold hands search in the dark for Yamaguchi’s smaller and inevitably colder ones.

Just to make sure he’s alright, that he won’t cry anymore tonight, Kei had told himself, but he was just pretending not to be selfish.

“Shit, I’ve—? Seven y-years now? I’ve been in—” Kei croaks helplessly into the darkness. His throat’s barely letting him speak aloud anymore. The dark around him reminds him of the hallway all those years ago and he nearly slams his hand into the lamp by his bed and sends it flying into the wall in an attempt to switch it on.

His rampant heart surges blood through his body and tidal waves roar deafeningly in his ears. Kei’s arms shake and barely hold him as he lifts his lead body off the mattress—he wasn't this heavy when he first lied down—and he begins to pace. He has never felt this riled up in his entire life, blood boiling under taut white skin and vision slightly blurred when he lifts his phone to his face.

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: lhgdfjhk

Awake

 

It’s all he manages to send but it’ll have to do. He wants to wail when he looks to the clock by his bed and it says it’s half-past midnight; it’s a safe bet that Yamaguchi’s asleep by now. Kei has half a mind to race over to his house and tap tap tap tap tap at his bedroom window until he wakes up and calms him down. He feels like a monsoon’s been trapped inside his body. God, Kei thinks, maybe even his face would calm me down right now.

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:lhgdfjhk

is that a question?? bc yep tsukki ! cant sleep :>

 

Kei lets out a strangled sound of relief. He’s never heard a sound like that come out of his mouth before but everything sounds foreign to him at the moment. He fights his way into a jacket and drops his cell phone into the pocket. It’s miraculous, he thinks, that he’s able to slip on his shoes and quietly leave his house through the back door.

The snow that fell a few weeks ago has nearly melted but its lingering presence leaves a certain bite to the air that only comes with pure winter. He thinks his phone is going off in his pocket but he can’t be sure and doesn’t have the mind to check. He’s positive he’s going to pass out if his heart keeps up the way it is. Kei pulls his coat tighter around himself, shakes his head ferociously as if to clear it, and takes off running.

Five minutes or two hours later—Kei can’t be sure—he’s jogging through Yamaguchi’s backyard. He stands by the back door, desperately wanting to knock and knock and knock until he sees Yamaguchi’s freckled face answer the door and usher him in. But he can’t wake up the entire house. He’s breathing heavily and his heart’s still racing, but it’s less scary if he can believe he did it to himself through physical exertion. He sends a quick and surely confusing text to Yamaguchi considering his frigid fingers won’t seem to work right and then doubles over, hands on his knees.

“Tsukki, what?”

He’s bent over on his back porch trying to meet Kei’s eyes and whispers due to the hour. When he realizes Kei’s not responding, he grabs him by the sleeve and drags him inside. The house passes before his eyes in a blur and the next thing he knows is he’s sitting on Yamaguchi’s bed. Its owner kneels across from him on the floor, freckles and unruly cowlick and all.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kei hears himself grunt.

“Focus on me.”

His peripheral vision fails him at the demand, his attention solely on Yamaguchi’s face. Kei stares at him hard, eyes boring into his face; there are his freckles—all of them—and there are his concerned, brown eyes, there’s his small, pouting mouth, there are his long eyelashes and his sharp nose; Kei lists them all over and over again until he feels secure enough to speak.

“Have you ever had a panic attack?” he manages.

“Of course,” Yamaguchi answers immediately.

He slowly moves to sit at Kei’s side. He hikes one leg up on Kei’s lap and uses his hands to guide one of Kei’s shaking ones to his knee. Kei grips it softly, focusing on his breathing like Yamaguchi tells him to. The only thing that keeps Kei from trying to stand up and pace every ten seconds is his grip on Yamaguchi’s knee. He squeezes it and Yamaguchi tenses, voice wavering slightly as he counts aloud. It must have tickled.

“It’s alright,” Yamaguchi promises, “it’s gonna pass. It’ll pass, Kei.”

Kei starts to agree with him. He feels the terror ebb away like a high tide slides back down the sand. Another few minutes and his breathing is under control as it ever was, but his gaze won’t lift from the floor of Yamaguchi’s room. A blush burns over his face; he’s embarrassed. He starts when Yamaguchi presses a couple fingers to a specific spot on his neck.

“Sorry, Tsukki. Cold hands,” Yamaguchi apologizes. “Feels like you’re calming down.”

“I am.”

His eyes move to Yamaguchi’s bedroom door and his thoughts are dragged back to the dark hallway right outside it. He thought the way he feels about Yamaguchi—he leaves it at that because he’s not ready to delve deeper into what that way is, exactly—was a recent development. Kei had assumed it was a result of their shifting dynamic after last summer, the way Yamaguchi pushed him forward because he knew better than Kei himself how bright his fire could burn. It just needed to be stoked, and Yamaguchi was willing and able. That’s what he thought.

But it’s just Yamaguchi.

Kei can try to pin his feelings on a change in his friend’s confidence and a dynamic change between the two of them but he thinks he gets it now. He just didn’t think the epiphany would lead to a fucking panic attack. He should have known all along. He feels stupid and irritated that he didn’t.

It’s just Yamaguchi; sweet and tender and supportive and present. It’s who he is and who he’s always been, since even before the night Kei had dreamt about earlier. The run from his house to Yamaguchi’s feels like it was ages ago.

“Tsukki?”

“Tadashi,” Kei breathes in response, and feels like every thought inside of him escapes in that single word.

He doesn’t notice the way Yamaguchi tenses and relaxes in the frame of a single second. What he does start to notice, however, is the inevitable chill hanging in the room and the tinny music emitting from a game console near the other end of the bed. He also realizes Yamaguchi’s leg is surprisingly warm and pleasantly heavy on his lap, tucked over Kei’s right one with his ankle hanging over the side of the bed. When he looks down to find his hands still clutching a freckled knee, Kei rips them off like he burns. He doesn’t know what to do with them now so he scrubs them down his face. Apparently Yamaguchi had taken his glasses off for him at some point.

“You okay?” Yamaguchi asks softly.

“Fine now. What time is it?”

“Quarter till two.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

Yamaguchi retracts both legs against his chest and rests his chin atop scuffed knees. Charcoal eyes, wide in the dim light, openly scan Kei’s face. In his peripherals, he sees the legs of Yamaguchi’s purple boxer shorts fall slightly and they no doubt reveal another couple inches of tanned, freckled thighs. Kei makes himself look away. Yamaguchi’s DS sings merrily in the growing silence. He can practically feel Yamaguchi’s concern wafting off of him. He wants to ask, Kei knows he does.

“I can sleep here?” Kei asks, voice strained.

He needs to clear his throat but doesn’t. Yamaguchi only nods. The brunet then unfolds himself and moves to his closet, dragging out the futon and placing it by the bed. He plops a couple pillows down on it. Kei blinks when the only lamp in the room is switched off. Moonlight pours into the bedroom as if it’s been summoned, and Kei finds himself suddenly exhausted. He moves to drop his weak body onto the futon.

“No,” Yamaguchi says, shaking his head and occupying the floor space. “You take the bed.”

Kei just nods and flops gracelessly back onto the mattress. He reaches to grab the offending game console from the foot of the bed and hands it wordlessly to Yamaguchi, who immediately flips the volume off and begins to play. He sprawls out on the futon, bare legs bathed pale in the moonlight. Kei twists himself into Yamaguchi’s comforter and closes his eyes. The quiet tick-tick-ing of Yamaguchi’s quick fingers hitting the console’s buttons and cursor pad lull him almost immediately to sleep.

Chapter 3: ennoshita's place

He constantly feels Yamaguchi’s eyes on him during class for the rest of the week like he thinks Kei will jump up, sprint out of the room and leap off the school’s roof. Kei can’t decide if it’s more frustrating or comforting. Though Yamaguchi always stands next to him at volleyball practice, he stands even closer. At least Kei thinks he does. He could just be imagining it. He decides this is not the case when he turns to toss a ball into the cart at the end of practice and slams straight into Yamaguchi’s chest, knocking him back a few steps.

“My bad, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, plucking the ball from his hands and tossing it in the cart himself. Kei puts his hands on his hips.

“Okay,” he sighs. “What’re you doing?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been watching over me all week like I’m gonna snap and whip out a chainsaw.”

“Eh, Tsukishima,” Kageyama calls from nearby. “I don’t like the word ‘chainsaw’ coming out of your mouth.”

“Then stop eavesdropping.”

A cheery voice pipes up from behind him. “He told you, Kageyama!”

“Hush, dumbass. Help me put this net away.”

“I’ll help you, Kageyama-san!” shouts an eager first-year.

“F-fine.”

Kei rolls his eyes and rests them back on Yamaguchi, who looks sternly at him. Kei blinks.

“What?” he asks.

“We should finish cleaning up,” Yamaguchi replies at the same time Ennoshita yells at them from across the court, a volleyball under each arm.

“Come on, you two! We’re nearly done!”

When the gym is bare, the team sits in a semicircle around Ennoshita who looks even more tired than he does naturally. Kei can’t imagine having to keep these people in line himself for more than an hour; he respects Ennoshita greatly for his sacrifice. Yachi flinches behind the captain when he yells at Tanaka and Nishinoya to shut up and listen. Hinata scoots pointedly closer to Kageyama than the eager first-year—Yushin, Kei thinks his name is—and Kageyama doesn’t notice either way. The guy has really warmed up to Kageyama and everyone’s noticed. Kei looks back to Ennoshita when he feels Hinata staring at him questioningly.

“I know some of you don’t want to hear this,” Ennoshita’s saying, “but it’s time for a team sleepover.”

Kei all but groans. He knew this was coming. From his side, Yamaguchi laughs at his anguish.

“That’s how you announce it?” Tanaka roars. “Who doesn’t want to hear this?”

“It’s glorious news!” Nishinoya agrees.

“Finally!”

Like most times, Kageyama looks void of an expression.

“Must we?”

“Yes, Tsukishima,” Ennoshita declares, pointing at him. “It’s time for this team to get closer, especially with our three new first-years. We’ll have more synergy on the court.”

Yushin punches his fist into the air and nearly decks Kageyama in the head. The two first-years beside him rejoice and high-five one another.

“Synergy! Synergy! Synergy!” Tanaka and Nishinoya chant loudly.

More club members join in and Kei can practically see the regret in their captain’s eyes before he closes them and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s a new habit he’s taken up since he stepped in for Daichi. He should have back-up but it’s early enough in the year that he has yet to elect his vice captain. Kei scans the semicircle. Tanaka, Kei thinks, might be a good choice. Perhaps Kinoshita, although he doesn’t really know much about him besides the fact that their captain is fond of him. Maybe a second-year? Maybe Hinata? He’s strong-willed and persistent. Kei watches the redhead in question scramble across the floor to high-five a beaming Yamaguchi and loses his train of thought.

“Whose house?” Yamaguchi asks.

“Tsukishima’s house is pretty big,” Hinata taunts as he hangs off Yamaguchi’s shoulder to lean over and poke Kei in the ribs.

Kei inches away with a grimace. “No way. In hell.”

“Relax. It’ll be at my house.”

“Your house, Captain?” Yushin squawks. “So cool!”

“It’s not that cool,” Kinoshita answers. Ennoshita gives him a reprimanding look and clears this throat.

“It’ll be at my house next weekend. We’ll go straight from evening practice. Got it?”

Karasuno stands and shouts a resounding affirmative.

________

 

It’s just cool enough outside that the volleyball club has to zip their jackets up on their walk. Clouds innocently roam the evening sky. The first-years walk together out in front of their group and listen intently to Yushin, the tallest of them (unfortunate since Yushin’s just shy of being Yamaguchi’s size; Kei was hoping the new recruits would bring some height to the team) talks animatedly about something. Music pounds distantly from the headphones around Kei’s neck.

“—and Karasuno no longer has a volleyball team? Can you imagine? Oh my god!” Hinata’s worrying when Kei tunes back in to the conversation going on around him.

Yamaguchi laughs, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen, like, someone could have a vendetta against one of us or something and come after that person. And then just decide, once seeing us helpless and sleeping on Ennoshita’s floor, that all of us deserve to go!”

“You’ve been watching too many movies,” Kageyama says flatly.

“If I have, then you have.”

Kei interjects, “When important political leaders attend meetings, a couple of them must stay behind in a safe house elsewhere in case something sinister happens. It’s how they make sure there would still be someone to lead if everyone else was suddenly gone. Or incapacitated.”

“Gone?! As in dead?” Hinata looks at him with wide eyes.

“Exactly,” he answers, grinning darkly.

“You guys are fucked up,” Ennoshita says in passing as the third-years shuffle by.

“Ennoshita-san!” Hinata yells after him. “All the doors in your house have locks, right?!”

“I elect myself to hang back.”

“No way, Tsukki. You’re the one who has to bond with the first-years the most,” Yamaguchi states.

Kei makes a face of distaste. “What? Why me?”

“Because the rest of us actually interact with them sometimes,” Kageyama grunts.

Kei lowers his voice and says, “It’s not my fault the tall one’s in love with the King.”

Hinata whips back around and asks, “Who? Yushin?”

Yamaguchi quickly tries to shush him but the first-year is already turing around to face them.

“Yeah, Hinata-san?” Yushin says, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. The kid talks to Hinata but looks at Kageyama. Inexplicably, Kei's irritated.

“I was wondering if your hair’s always been blond!” Hinata barks after a second.

“Oh. Yep, it has!” Yushin answers and turns his broad smile on Kei. “Are you a natural blond too, Tsukishima-san?”

“Yeah,” both Yamaguchi and Kei answer at the same time.

_________

“I can tell you’re worried about me,” Kei sighs as he stands on Yamaguchi’s porch later on. A pair of moths dance around the bare bulb that illuminates the space. Yamaguchi retracts his hand from the knob of his front door and slowly turns back around, as if reluctant.

“I know you can tell. Doesn’t mean I still won’t be worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Yamaguchi breathes, eyes uncharacteristically big and brow furrowed.

Kei stands there for a minute and weighs his options. How much of the truth does he tell? How vague can he be while still giving Yamaguchi a satisfactory answer? He can’t brush him off like he might’ve been able to do a year ago. Kei resists the urge to pull his lip into his mouth and worry it with his teeth.

What if he just…said it?

What if he just started spilling his guts all over Yamaguchi’s front porch: I think I’m in love with you, and I think you’re in love with me too and maybe we should both just admit this so we don’t have to be embarrassed when we catch each other staring or walking too close. And you can put your leg on my lap any time you want and I can count your freckles while you play Pokémon on your DS and nothing has to be weird about it. It’s just us, after all. We’ve always been heading here.

Kei’s mere thoughts make him dizzy. He’s grateful for the gust of cool wind that snaps him out of it. It’s not like him to just think of the shiny side of things, so he also ponders on the bad and the ugly. And that is the thought that’s incessantly gnawing at him whenever he thinks of Yamaguchi these days: I would lose everything that means anything to me when it ended.

And that scares the shit out of him.

Yamaguchi sighs, “Goodnight, Tsukki.”

He’s reaching for his doorknob again when Kei grabs his arm.

“Wait,” he says.

Yamaguchi’s eyes slide from the hand clutched around his lower arm to Kei’s face.

“A bad dream,” he admits. “A memory.”

“A bad memory…” Yamaguchi trails off. “Akiteru?”

Slice.

Kei almost wants to laugh.

“No, no, it was—it was one of the first times I’d slept over at your house.”

Yamaguchi screws his face up. His voice cracks when he utters, “That's a bad memory for you?”

“No, Tadashi, no. Listen. Let me finish.” Kei finally lets his arm drop back to his side. He’d say anything if it meant Yamaguchi would stop looking at him like that, like someone was behind him twisting a knife into his back. They both fight off a shiver when another gale rushes by. “Remember when I walked into the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were…” Kei pauses. “Trying to erase your freckles?”

“With a pencil eraser.”

“Yes.”

Yamaguchi raises his hands to his face like he wants to poke at it but stops himself midway. He lets them hover in the space between he and Kei before they fall down again to wring together nervously. Watching them makes Kei nervous too, so he opts to vacantly watch the red door behind Yamaguchi’s shoulder instead.

“You had an anxiety attack because you dreamt about that?” Yamaguchi asks quietly.

Kei nods helplessly, knowing the puzzle doesn’t fit right because Yamaguchi doesn’t have all the pieces.

“I’d never had one before.”

“You never panic about anything.”

Kei snaps his eyes to him and replies, “I thought that, too.”

“So then…?”

“I’m sorry, Yamaguchi. I don’t know. I don’t know, okay, I woke up from it and I just.” Kei doesn’t know how to finish that, so he doesn’t. But Yamaguchi’s still staring at him like he just needs so much more. He desperately wants to help without revealing himself.

Kei shakes his head and exhales, “I just needed to see you, I guess.”

Yamaguchi nods, slowly at first, then speeding up until he’s bobbing his head up and down and a wide smile looks like it’ll split his face in two. The hairs on his head that always stick straight up wave around frantically in the winter air.

“And it worked, too,” Kei’s babbling, “because as soon as I saw your face and your freckles, I knew I’d be fine. You calmed me down. And I was fine. I am fine—what’s that? What’s that face for?”

“It’s just,” Yamaguchi sputters, “It’s just nice to be needed by you.”

Kei doesn’t know what that means, of course he needs Yamaguchi, but the words warm him up anyway. He still feels cozy after Yamaguchi disappears inside his house minutes later, like a little campfire's been built inside his chest. His slight grin refuses to falter the entire walk to his house.

_________

  

Hinata is not synching with Yushin at all. Their blocks go up with completely different timing, they’ve landed on each other’s feet more than a few times now, and they keep going for the same receive even when one of them’s already claimed it.

“Dumbass! Dumbass, Hinata! You heard him call it!”

“I know!” Hinata snaps before turning to Yushin and mumbling, “Sorry. My fault.”

“Don’t mind, Hinata-san. Just being on the same court with you is cool, anyway!”

Kei would almost say the first-year looks smug. Hinata is torn between staying pissed off and glowing at the praise, and the constipated look on the redhead’s face makes Yamaguchi throw a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Kei hides his own with a strangled cough.

“Don’t mind, Hinata,” Yamaguchi agrees from where they stand near the back line.

“One more, Tanaka-senpai!”

As practice goes on, it grows more and more apparent that Hinata meshes with everyone on the court with an exception of the blond first-year. Kageyama chews him out yet again and instead of barking back, Hinata just gets more and more flustered. Kei finds it painful to watch. The smug look returns to Yushin’s face and it’s really starting to irritate him.

“I feel bad,” Yamaguchi whispers.

Kei adjusts his sports glasses and replies, “He’ll get it eventually.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

They both turn when Ennoshita steps in. He grabs Hinata and Kageyama by the backs of their shirts and drags them to the corner of the gym. Kei learns nothing from Ennoshita’s relaxed body language. Nishinoya speeds over to him and Yamaguchi, playfully snapping the band at the back of Kei’s head.

“What’s that all about?” he chirps.

Tanaka runs over too. “What the hell’s up with them today?”

Kei and Yamaguchi exchange a look.

“No idea.”

Nishinoya moves to rest his elbow on Tanaka’s shoulder and the duo give them a suspicious look. Over Nishinoya’s shoulder, Kei sees Yushin standing with his back to them, much more still than he was a moment ago. It’s so obvious he’s listening in that Kei can practically see his ears twitching.

“Come on, there’s something. We saw that look you guys just gave each other.”

Kei wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and says, “There was no look.”

“Yeah there was,” Nishinoya claims, inspecting his fingernails. “It was one of those classic Tadashi-Tsukishima looks you do when you know something we don’t.”

Kei smirks. “It’s not our fault we’re a lot more intelligent than you.”

“Smartass,” Tanaka chides harmlessly. “Come on, something’s up with our freak duo.”

“Come on, tell us, tell us!”

“Noya-san, we really don’t know,” Yamaguchi promises.

Nishinoya deflates. “Aw, man. It’s hard to not believe Tadashi when he’s so cute.”

“Last year, you couldn’t wait to rat them out,” Tanaka huffs. “You’re getting soft, Tsukishima.”

“And with so many good-looking guys around!”

The two third-years roar with laughter and saunter back to their places on the court, still slapping their knees at one another. Kei is eternally torn between being either exhausted or amused at their exchanges. He hears Yamaguchi downright giggling at his side and turns away from Tanaka and Nishinoya to eye him incredulously.

“That was pretty funny,” Yamaguchi laughs, grasping Kei’s shoulder, “you gotta admit.”

Kei puffs out a short laugh.

“It definitely wasn't their worst material.”

__________

 
 

from: Hinata S

subject: omgomgOMGGG

we’re having a MOST EMBARRASSING PAJAMAS contest tomm.night at ennoshita-sans!!!!

 

from: Hinata S

subject: omgomgOMGGG

DON’T forget, tsukishima!!!

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

I am not doing that

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

stingyshima. yamaguchi’s doing it

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

He can do whatever he wants to

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

I’d pay to see Kageyama in embarrassing sleep stuff. Make sure he participates

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

HE SAYS HE’LL ONLY DO IT IF YOU WILL!! also he wants to know how much u would pay

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

Hinata you’d better go to bed unless you wanna be the first one asleep tomorrow like a giant loser

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:omgomgOMGGG

shit ur right

 _________

Evening practice on the night of the team sleepover is much more companionable than usual since everyone knows they’re going to be spending the next twelve hours together anyway. It’s amusing but rigorous. Kei’s pretty sure their captain works them harder so that they won’t be as rowdy afterwards. He appreciates the strategy and tells Ennoshita this much in the club room, who just smirks and claps Kei on the back.

It’s a shame that the tactic doesn’t quite seem to work. The thunderous group is in great spirits, sprawled out over the piles of blankets on their captain’s main room floor. An action flick plays on the big television near the wall. Ennoshita’s parents had retreated to their bedroom some time ago with nary a word besides telling them to have a good time.

“Your parents are so cool!” Hinata sings.

“Hinata, be quiet! This is the best part!”

When the credits roll, Yamaguchi finally picks his head up from Kei’s shoulder. He’d dozed off somewhere around the second helicopter explosion. Kei found it hard to concentrate on the film after that and his head hurts from trying so hard to focus.

“He can literally fall asleep anywhere,” Kei mumbles to the first-years of Yamaguchi when they ask if he’s alright.

“I’m up,” Yamaguchi yawns. “Sorry, sorry. I swear I’m up now.”

“One time he fell asleep on the bench outside Sakanoshita shop when Kageyama and I went in to get a soda,” Hinata announces. “Oh! And then there was that time we found him asleep on the club room floor before practice.”

“The club room?” Tanaka snorts.

Yamaguchi rubs the back of his neck and declares, “I have simple needs.”

“My brother found him asleep on our front porch one time when we were in elementary.”

The team cheers with laughter and Kei sputters when a sharp elbow is thrown into his side.

“What should we do now?” Yushin pipes up.

“Truth or dare,” Nishinoya responds immediately.

Ennoshita says, “I don’t know about that.”

“What? Why the heck not?” asks Hinata, sticking his bottom lip out.

One glance at him and Kageyama is suddenly on board as well. Sucker, thinks Kei.

“It’s a tradition.”

“A tradition? We’ve only had, like, two of these team sleepovers before,” says Kinoshita.

“Yeah, and we’ve done it both times!” Hinata replies.

“Hardly makes for a tradition.”

“Hush, Tsukishima!”

Kinoshita sighs and turns to Nishinoya. “Remember when you dared Azumane-san to sprint around Sugawara’s house with his shirt off and then he got that cold for like two weeks?”

“That’s ‘cause Asahi’s a wimp,” Nishinoya declares happily.

Tanaka pokes at his side. "You miss him."

“That I do, Ryū, that I do,” the libero responds wistfully as if Asahi-san had moved to Russia instead of an apartment down the street from his parent’s house. "Fine, what if we only play truths?”

Hinata perks up. “Truth or truth?”

“That’s so lame,” groans Kei.

“You’re lame,” Nishinoya retorts. “Or do you want to watch the sequel to the movie? I’ve got it in my bag. I think there are even more helicopter explosions in this one—”

“Truth or truth,” Ennoshita quickly interrupts, clapping his hands together. “In a circle, everyone. Come on. Don’t be shy, snuggle in,” he says, ignoring the fact that most of the boys are already sharing a blanket with at least one other person.

Kei had shoved their blanket off his lap some time ago to give it fully to Yamaguchi when he’d fallen asleep. The first-years huddle together as Kei expects them to (Yushin in the middle, blanket draped over him and falling around the shoulders of the other two at either of his sides). Next to them, Hinata and Kageyama pull incessantly at the purple blanket they’re attempting to share.

“Kageyama-san, I’ve got some blanket if you need it!” Yushin offers.

Hinata suddenly lets his grip on the blanket go. Kageyama goes reeling back and Kei barks out a laugh.

“I’m fine. Or I would be if Hinata would just stop hogging all of my share,” Kageyama snaps when he recovers.

“You’re such a baby, Bakageyama. Have the blanket. I don’t even want it. I’ll share with someone else.”

“You’re being childish,” Yamaguchi whispers to him.

The redhead has crawled over to sit next to him and claws some of he and Kei’s starry blue blanket over his legs. A dejected Kageyama looks like he doesn’t even want the blanket he’d fought so avidly for. Kei rolls his eyes at the both of them.

“Will you guys stop being literal six-year-olds for five minutes?” Ennoshita deadpans, apparently reading Kei’s mind. “Cool. Now who’s going first?”

“I will, Ennoshita!” Tanaka waves his arm frantically. “Okay. Let’s talk first kisses!”

Blushes, sputters, and groans of protest fill the room. Nishinoya smacks the other third-year in the arm and beams a shit-eating grin. Kei just knew shit like this was going to go down. Yamaguchi pulls the tie on his wrist into his brown hair and Kei stares for a second at the little ponytail. He hardly ever does it, so Kei makes the most out of it when he does. Yamaguchi turns to give him a cheeky grin when Kei gives it a slight tug.

“Ryū, we all know you only want to talk about that because you had yours earlier this year!”

“So what?!”

“Quit your bragging, baldy,” Kinoshita says and snickers when Tanaka gapes at him.

Tanaka directs his attention to the first-years, the shorter two of them—Kei amusedly realizes he still doesn’t know their names—shake their heads. Yushin, on the other hand, has been waiting impatiently to answer.

“I’ve had my first kiss right before the school year started,” he boasts.

“This is not how truth or dare works,” Kei drones.

Hinata corrects him, “Truth or truth.”

“I think you and I are gonna get along just fine. We’re both good with the ladies,” Tanaka winks and shuffles over to pat Yushin on the back.

“That is a severe overstatement on your part, Tanaka-san,” says Kei.

“Tsukishima!” Tanaka bellows. “What about your first kiss, then?”

Yamaguchi shifts a little bit to look up at him expectantly from where his chin rests on his knees. In fact, the majority of the team peers at him in the same fashion. Kei blinks at them. He hardly ever thinks about being kissed and thinks about actually executing it even less. There is one freckled exception, but Kei even tries to avoid thinking anything involving this exception and kissing. That is a bridge he cannot burn. He adamantly knows he’d never be able to come back from it.

“Haven’t had it.”

“Really?” Yamaguchi asks incredulously.

“Really?” the others chorus.

Kei suddenly wishes he and Yamaguchi were alone, though he’s not quite sure why. The room feels too occupied. This is much more excitement than he’s used to.

“Wha—?” Nishinoya crows. “Aren’t you getting confessions from girls, like, all the time?”

Kei shrugs a shoulder.

“So? Doesn’t mean I want to kiss any of them.”

He thinks Kageyama nods slightly from across the circle in agreement. Kei knows he gets confessed to a lot as well; girls have shyly pulled him away from the rest of their group in the middle of lunch to do so. The setter always comes back empty-handed. In the interim, though, Hinata always speaks a little too quickly and is even more distracted than usual. Kei has no idea what Hinata would do if Kageyama ended up with a girlfriend. Not that Kei thinks that is even a remote possibility (for a myriad of reasons). Seriously, Kei can think of so many reasons. He thinks it’s kind of a shame that they’re both too inept to just realize one another. He wonders what’s worse: being oblivious to being in love or being aware of it. When he starts to think on that, Yamaguchi’s presence becomes a raging fire next to him.

“Tsukki’s so cool,” Yamaguchi fawns.

Hinata agrees wholeheartedly, “You’re so cool, Stingyshima!”

“Never thought Hinata’d be in the Tsukishima fan club,” Ennoshita says off-handedly to Tanaka.

Tanaka reminisces with a hand over his chest, “I miss when there was only one member.”

“What about our own freak duo?” Ennoshita inquires. “First kisses?”

Kei senses the shift in atmosphere from his fellow second-years as soon as the question is asked. He follows Kageyama’s gaze across to Hinata. The static is palpable; he’s surprised everyone’s hair doesn’t rise to stand on end. He glances at Yamaguchi to see if he notices it too, but he’s already peeking at him. They both quickly look away.

“It’s not like you to be silent, Shouyou! Tell us!” Nishinoya lilts, voice muffled by the blanket he’s wrapped himself in. There’s a pregnant pause before Hinata replies, like he’s searching for the words.

“It was…good. I mean, ah—it was nice.”

“You’re blushing! That’s so cute!”

“And you, Kageyama?” Ennoshita asks.

“Yes,” Kageyama answers shortly. “Mine was nice, too.”

“He’s blushing too! Our freak duo is blushing! Our blushing duo,” Nishinoya proclaims proudly. Tanaka looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Our little second-years,” he wails, “they’re growing up, kissing girls, I can’t believe this…”

“So who confessed to you, Hinata? A girl in your class?” asks Kinoshita.

“Huh?” Hinata blurts. “No, there was no confession. We just. Um. It just kind of…”

Hinata flounders. Kei wonders for a second why they both didn’t just lie. Are they really that dense? He gently nudges Yamaguchi’s shoulder with his elbow and Yamaguchi gets the hint.

“Isn’t anyone going to ask me?” he pipes up.

The team’s focus shifts to the freckled teen and Hinata finally exhales. A glance at Kageyama proves his complexion is returning to something resembling human instead of tomato. Kei thinks they should be eternally grateful for both him and Yamaguchi; in fact, maybe Hinata should buy the two of them pork buns later. Kei makes a mental note to demand this of him later on. Ennoshita reiterates the question that’s been tossed around the room to Yamaguchi who suddenly looks surprised at all the attention.

“…Yeah,” he confesses, “just this past summer.”

Kei feels his heart drop into his stomach, can feel the acids bubbling around, eating it up.

“Of course, of course. Look at that face!” Nishinoya rejoices. “Is she in your class?”

“Just a neighbor girl at my grandparents house in the mountains.”

Kei’s been there. He wracks his memory for any recollection of a neighbor, a girl, anything, but comes up short. A few longer strands of hair have fallen from Yamaguchi’s ponytail and they delicately frame his face. Hinata eyes Kei, but his gaze floats quickly away when Kei squints at him. Thwack, thwack, thwack—Nishinoya’s suddenly slapping at Kei’s shoulder.

“Looks like Tadashi beat you, huh, Tsukishima?”

Yamaguchi finally turns toward him with a bashful grin. Kei stares back with empty eyes.

“Looks like it.”

“It’s not a race, you derelicts,” Ennoshita sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh!” Hinata chimes. “Let’s have a race!”

“I agree. Hinata, bring it on.”

“Kageyama, no,” their captain holds a hand in front of him like he might sprint out of the room at any moment. “It’s nighttime. We’re not racing. In fact, I think we should put on that next movie Noya brought and try to simmer down.”

“Aww, simmering already?” Nishinoya pouts.

“Do you think they make volleyballs that glow in the dark?” Yushin asks thoughtfully.

“Holy shit,” Kageyama breathes with wide eyes like someone’s just given him the formula for eternal life.

“I know, right?!”

The first-year continues on about it and shuffles closer to the setter but Kageyama doesn’t notice, though the redhead at Yamaguchi’s side tenses. Kageyama is quite literally the only subject that can pull Hinata from his perpetual cloud nine and Kei doubts the former even notices. He has a fleeting thought about Bokuto Koutarou’s dejected mode.

“Night volleyball,” Yamaguchi ponders aloud, index finger tapping his chin. “We would need a light-up net, too.”

A cacophony of voices start to chatter excitedly.

“Definitely,” Kinoshita answers.

“Light-up jerseys?!”

“Double definitely.”

“Just the numbers on them would have to glow in the dark, though. That’d look so cool.”

Yushin inquires, “Light-up sneakers?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Is somebody writing this down?!” Hinata asks, head whipping around wildly.

Kageyama, in fact, has a pen and paper balanced on his knees and is violently scribbling.

“Where did he even get those?” Kei mutters to Yamaguchi.

Things only quiet down when the menu screen of the sequel to the worst movie Kei's ever seen plays enthusiastically on the television screen. Everyone immediately scrambles to get a good seat, the third-years leaping onto the only couch in the room. Kinoshita sticks his tongue out at Hinata when he complains.

“Senpai privileges,” he declares with a smirk.

“Yeah right, like anyone’s ever called you ‘senpai’.”

“Chikara!”

It turns out the unfortunate couch can’t hold them all, so Nishinoya drapes himself across the other four’s laps. Kei has to stifle his laugh when not one of them complains about it. Yamaguchi waits for Kei to settle in before he does so himself, so the latter quickly scoots across the floor to Tanaka’s end of the couch and leans back against it.

An excited Nishinoya toes him in the back of the head a couple times. But Kei figures it’s better than sitting right in front of where his loud mouth is (and will inevitably be screaming at every explosion and throughout the entire duration of each car chase). Let the first-years deal with that shit. Yamaguchi shuffles to his side and throws his starry blue blanket over their knees. Hinata hovers around the commotion like a bug around a bulb.

“Oi, Hinata. Here,” beckons Kageyama.

Hinata vibrates in place before beaming and throwing himself strategically between Kageyama and Yushin. Kageyama is effectively shoved up against Kei’s side. Kei groans and shifts closer to Yamaguchi who happily leans into him. He is way too warm with both Yamaguchi at his side and the blanket, so he discards it once again and gladly soaks up the body heat instead. The first explosion occurs—the top floor of a hospital—and Nishinoya bellows with excitement. His foot once again connects with the back of Kei’s head.

“Can you mind your hyperactive feet, Noya-san?”

“Sorry, sorry, I just get so riled up! It’s like, bam! Crash!”

“Crash! Bam, pow!” Tanaka adds intelligently.

Hinata complements with, “Wham!”

Kei wonders how hard he’d have to smash his own head against the floor to kill him.

“Noya, kick Tsukishima again and he and I will physically crush you into the size of a volleyball—which shouldn’t be too hard given your current stature—and use you for our next practice,” promises the captain.

“Scary,” Hinata croaks, sliding deeper into his blanket.

“It’d probably be just as easy to do that with you.”

“Kageyama, don’t make it worse!”

“I’m just being logical.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Kei deadpans.

Yamaguchi laughs lamely in his half-asleep state. Kei hears it and promptly tunes the movie out, which is impressive considering its content. He still feels like somebody’s dropped him on his head. How could he have not known Yamaguchi’d been kissed? Something flares in his chest as he thinks about it. It travels downward and twists his gut into painful knots.

He shouldn’t be surprised, maybe, probably, he doesn’t know—they are seventeen years old after all, and Kei knows his friend is above average-looking. His bias doesn’t affect his vision, right? He can’t be sure. What he is sure of is that Yamaguchi kissed a girl. A girl kissed Yamaguchi. However it went down, Yamaguchi and some girl have kissed each other. Kei’s hands involuntarily meet behind his back to fiddle with one another.

The truth is that he thought he’d be Yamaguchi’s first kiss, whenever either of them worked up the courage. So it could’ve been years from now, and surely at least one of them would have been kissed by then. It could have been never. The truth is that Yamaguchi was in the mountains for ten measly days in the summer and found someone he’d rather kiss than Kei. He feels like he’s drowning with his head above water.

“—think so. Tsukishima’s so skinny.”

“He’s got those hips, though.”

“What?” Kei blurts, dragging himself out of his thoughts.

“Geez, where were you?” Tanaka pokes at his head.

Nishinoya informs him, “We’ve been discussing whether or not you make a good pillow for like, five minutes now.”

“We landed on ‘no’,” Kageyama supplements.

“Great.”

“Though we have some hard evidence against that,” Ennoshita states.

Kei looks down to where Yamaguchi’s passed out face-down on his right thigh. He really can sleep anywhere and in any position; Kei’s envious. He must’ve zoned out hard, but now he feels the soft rumbling of Yamaguchi’s breathing on his skin. Don’t shiver. Don’t shiver. Don’t shiver.

“Whether he’s a good pillow or not, Yama seems to be fine with it,” Hinata notes. “Think I’d make a good pillow?”

“Too tiny,” Kageyama answers without taking his eyes off the television.

“Maybe a dollhouse pillow,” Ennoshita chuckles.

“Chikara makes a great one,” Nishinoya insists, digging his head into Ennoshita’s stomach to make his point. Ennoshita emits a small ‘oof’ but doesn’t bother shoving him off. Kei respects his patience more with every hour that passes.

“I think he’s drooling on my thigh.”

Hinata shoves himself up to inspect and the third-years quake with laughter. The sound wakes all three first-years who had fallen asleep in a little pile near the other end of the couch. Kei may or may not have forgotten they were there.

“He would be a drooler,” Nishinoya states happily.

“He so is,” Hinata lets them know.

Nishinoya continues, “Tsukishima, I can’t believe you’re not moving him!”

“I can,” Kageyama mumbles and Kei viciously stabs him in the side with his elbow.

“Let him be,” Kei tells them.

Kageyama’s still wheezing next to him and Hinata’s worrying over him like he’ll keel over any second. Okay, maybe Kei overdid it. But he accepts any opportunity to casually cause the braindead setter physical harm. Yamaguchi begins to stir as the movie comes to a close. The third and final helicopter explodes and so does the final bit of Kei’s patience for the film. Yamaguchi makes like he’s going to sit up but instead just flops over on to his back, his hair tickling Kei’s thigh. He stares up at Kei with tired eyes.

“I fell asleep again.”

Tanaka replies from the couch, “You sure did, buddy.”

“What’s the verdict?” Ennoshita asks, shoving Nishinoya so he rolls off the couch and onto the pile of first-years. “Does Tsukishima make a good pillow?”

“Better than the bench outside Sakanoshita?” Hinata asks genuinely. “Or the club room floor?”

Yamaguchi instantly rises, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. He pulls the hair tie out and lets his hair fall back around his ears. He blinks tiredly at his team and Kei feels his heart clench tighter than the knots in his stomach that won’t seem to loosen.

“Yeah,” he yawns. “Sorry, Tsukki.”

“Ha! Kageyama, you owe me milkbread!”

“What? Dumbass, we didn’t make any bets!”

“In my head I did.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Yeah it does. Kageyama, you owe him milkbread,” Kei declares just to see Kageyama suffer.

“Nice!”

“Tsukishima doesn’t make the rules!”

“I agree with Tsukki. He gets milkbread.”

“What a surpr—” Kageyama gets another elbow to the ribcage, stopping him short.

“Alright, enough. You’re all crazy and it’s time for bed."

“But Chikara—” Nishinoya starts.

“No whining. C’mon, everyone spread your shit.”

Kinoshita remarks, “You have such a way with words.”

_________

 

Of course, Hinata ends up being the only one who wears embarrassing pajamas. They’re blue with yellow rubber ducks printed all over the long-sleeved shirt and matching shorts. Nishinoya and Tanaka have a field day about it which results in a full-out brawl with pillows as ammunition. Kei drags his sleeping arrangement to the corner of the room to stay out of it.

“You actually pull them off!” Nishinoya admits after the two third-years concede defeat.

“It’s true.”

“Think so, Kageyama?”

“Only because you look like you’re nine.”

“Wha—?!”

“I like them,” Yamaguchi says and gives him a thumbs up.

When Yamaguchi follows Kei to the corner where he lies, Hinata follows Yamaguchi, and Kageyama subsequently follows Hinata. They form a square of second-years with their overnight bags thrown into the middle.

“No snoring,” Kei demands.

Kageyama and Hinata defy him no more than three minutes later. There are still some murmurs around the room, his teammates conversing tiredly and shuffling around in their blankets. He cranes his head to look when the lump behind his head starts to move. Kei watches Yamaguchi rotate his position so that his head lies next to Kei’s own instead of his feet.

“They’re asleep, right?” Yamaguchi whispers.

Kei feels a weird squirming in his gut at the question. The faint light from Ennoshita’s front porch light sends a dim yellow through the front window of the house and it casts over Yamaguchi’s tan face. The two listen for another bout of snoring before Yamaguchi continues.

“I didn’t know they…”

“They what?” Kei prompts quietly.

“They kissed.”

I didn’t know you had, is all Kei can think.

“Oh,” he answers instead, slowly letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Yamaguchi pulls himself a bit closer to Kei.

“Did you?” he asks.

“If you didn’t know, I didn’t know.”

Yamaguchi hums.

“Well, goodnight, Tsukki.”

“Goodnight, Yamaguchi.”

Notes:

check out adriana's cute af art for this chapter!

Chapter 4: wrecking ball

Notes:

just a small note: dreams will always be in italics! i won't ever try to trick you with that lmao.

happy reading, all you awesome folks.

Kei follows up on his promise to make Hinata buy him and Yamaguchi pork buns one evening after practice. The sky looks like it’ll open up any minute, whirls of dark grey hovering above the boys as they sit on a park bench. Hinata devours the majority of his food within minutes and Yamaguchi takes tentative bites to savor it. Kei occasionally picks at his.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Yamaguchi insists.

“Yes he did.”

“I owed you guys one,” Hinata replies, flapping his wrist at them. “I, ah, that would’ve been embarrassing. You know, if they, uh.”

“I get it,” Yamaguchi nods.

“I don’t, really. Do you really not want people to know?” Kei asks absently. “It’s not like most of them wouldn’t be expecting it.”

Hinata takes the final bite of his food and chews it contemplatively.

He swallows and says, “There’s really nothing to tell. We aren’t, y’know…”

“Together? Dating?” Yamaguchi supplies.

Hinata nods and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, ignoring the napkin Kei tries to hand him. The sky rumbles and the three of them look upward suspiciously.

Yamaguchi asks, “You just kissed?”

“If you did anything beyond that, please keep it to yourself.”

“Tsukki!”

“Tsukishima! Yeah. Just a kiss.” Hinata blushes with intensity. “One kiss. And it was totally by accident.”

Kei wonders how that could be but doesn’t push him. Do people often find themselves kissing on accident? Kei’s not even sure how people find themselves kissing on purpose. He watches as Yamaguchi’s pink tongue licks a crumb from his bottom lip.

“Feels weird talking about it,” Hinata mutters.

“Sorry. You don’t have to. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I was going to text you about it,” Hinata tells Yamaguchi, “but it felt too weird even typing it out.”

Hinata covers his face with his hands and groans, scrubbing them back into his hair. Shocks of orange peek out between his fingers. Yamaguchi pats his back when Hinata doubles over in despair.

“Shouyou, it’s fine!” Yamaguchi promises.

“It’ll be fine,” Kei agrees.

“Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”

Kei squints at Yamaguchi’s words. Knots tie in his gut. Surely, this just cannot be true. Does Yamaguchi honestly believe this? A kiss only happens if someone wants it to happen. How can you go back to strictly friends, Kei wonders, after you finally find out how someone’s lips taste, how they feel?

“How do you rebuild a dam you’ve willingly broken?”

“Huh?”

“…Tsukki?”

Kei pushes his glasses up in an attempt to appear casual. Yamaguchi rests his hand next to himself on the bench. It’s close enough to Kei that his pinky barely grazes his thigh.

“Can you?” replies Hinata.

That’s what I’m asking you, Kei thinks irritably.

Softly, Hinata questions, “But what if you don’t want to rebuild it?”

He and Yamaguchi turn to look at Kei with wide eyes like he has the answer. Kei feels just as lost as Hinata at the moment. He looks away from their expectant stares. The wind picks up and Kei watches the blades of grass dance around their feet.

“Then you float on,” he mumbles.

A fat raindrop splats onto his glasses.

“I’m lost,” Hinata confesses after a minute.

“Tsukki means that you just have to move forward from it.”

“Forward,” the redhead repeats.

Kei waves his hand in front of him in a nonchalant manner. The raindrop slides down and plops onto his cheek. It leaves a cool trail over his skin as it goes.

“Take it as you will,” he says.

__________

 

 

from: Hinata S

subject: !

thanks for the advice today stingyshima!!

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Don’t say that unless it actually helped

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

but it did!! or it will, i mean! you should be a therapist!!! i think yama got something out of it too!

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Probably. He’s a lot smarter than you

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

and a lot NICER than YOU >:[

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

no wonder he’s been kisssed and you haven't

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Shut up

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

when he told me at the summer training camp i thought for sure you would’ve had your first kiss already too!!

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Yeah we don’t have to talk about this

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Wait. He told you?

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

shit ……………. yes

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Why ‘shit’?

 

from: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

well he said not to tell you back then cuz he thought you’d get mad or smth like that idr

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Mad? Why would I be mad?

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Hinata?

 

to: Hinata S

subject: Re:!

Are you there??

 

__________

 

Kei starts to involuntarily note every interaction Yamaguchi has with girls in their class or in the courtyard where they have lunch. He even watches when Yamaguchi speaks to Yachi. His lips purse and his hands clench without him noticing. Kei doesn’t want to be watching—really, he doesn’t—and he should instead be focusing on the receives he practices with Tanaka or rewriting his class notes or doing any number of other, more important things. But he can’t help it.

When a tall, blonde girl in their class asks Yamaguchi for his notes on a day she was out sick, Kei suddenly wonders if Yamaguchi finds her attractive. He wonders if Yamaguchi wants to kiss her. Because apparently that is something Yamaguchi is interested in: kissing girls.

If Yamaguchi wants to kiss girls, he would certainly not want to kiss Kei.

Why didn’t Kei know of this interest in girls that Yamaguchi apparently has? Granted, they don’t talk much on the subject of romance or sex. It just never comes up. What does come up are films and food and random prehistoric creature trivia Kei has learned in the book he’s currently renting or what Pokémon Yamaguchi wants to train in his current play-through. He absently wonders what Hinata and Kageyama were talking about before they kissed since it wasn’t their confessions. Was it something as innocent as the things he and Yamaguchi talk about?

How do you rebuild a dam you’ve willingly broken?

Kei desperately needs to stop thinking about things like this; things like Yamaguchi’s preference of girls, Yamaguchi’s pink lips moving against someone else’s, and especially that same pair of lips moving against his own. It’s useless to think about actions that will never come to pass. It is a waste of time, and Kei hates to waste his time.

He will not wreck the only fulfilling friendship he’s ever had by demanding more and then not being able to deliver. Kei is simply not meant to be with Yamaguchi because Kei knows that it will be because of himself that it all ends: their love, their relationship, and subsequently the only friendship that has ever meant anything to him. If he wants to keep Yamaguchi by his side, his side is the closest Yamaguchi can ever get to him. Yamaguchi should fall in love with that neighbor girl in the mountains. He should fall in love with Yachi or with one of the girls in their class.

So when Yamaguchi falls out of that love, Kei can be the lifelong childhood friend, ready to put him back together when he crumbles. Kei needs to be a sturdy foundation.

But it’s really hard when all Kei wants to be is a wrecking ball.

 
__________

“Kageyama-san! Give me some tosses?”

Yushin hops from foot to foot and shakes out his arms. Hinata is visibly on edge. Yamaguchi watches him with a pained expression on his face before casting furtive glances between the three of them.

“I think we’re cleaning up now,” Hinata says. “Right, Ennoshita-san?”

Ennoshita looks over to him from where he’s talking with Kinoshita by the gym doors.

“Doesn’t matter to me if you stay later, as long as you clean and lock up when you’re finished.”

“Awesome!” Yushin rejoices. “Sound good, Kageyama-san?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll stay too,” Hinata decides, dropping his bag back onto the gym floor.

“I’ve been tossing to you all day, dumbass.”

“So what? You getting tired?” Hinata teases.

“No! I could toss another fifty times!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Yushin answers with a wink.

Next to him, Yamaguchi chokes on his water. That was a clear flirtation; Kageyama really is as dense as Kei claims he is. Yamaguchi’s tempted to stay as well but he tags along when Kei insists with a yawn that he’s leaving so he can sleep. Kei can’t decide whether he feels bad for dragging him away or grateful for having him to walk home with. Their walks are so easy and Kei is so used to ending his days by them.

“I hope Hinata knows he didn’t have to stay behind,” Yamaguchi worries.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm?”

“I think Kageyama agreeing to toss extra to that first-year is the Hinata-equivalent of him making out with that kid in the middle of the gym floor.”

“You may be right. Want a lollipop?” Yamaguchi asks as they pass the shop.

“Too tired to live,” Kei complains.

“Not even if they’ve got a strawberry one?”

Kei makes a noncommittal sound.

“My treat, Tsukki!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been kissed?” Kei blurts.

The question has been circling in his head for days now since Hinata’s text. He was going to use more tact in asking it—hadn’t even planned on asking it in the first place—but it’s too late for that now. Yamaguchi stalls momentarily and then has to stride a bit faster to return to Kei’s side.

“I just didn’t think you’d care to hear that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, why would you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

The air between them feels off. Kei wants to reach out and retract the question. A belated blush settles high on his cheeks, he feels it burning his cool skin. Yamaguchi is similarly flushed.

“Would you have told me?”

“What?” Kei asks, taken aback.

“Would you have told me,” Yamaguchi pauses. “…If you kissed someone?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed someone.”

“That’s one way to avoid the question, Tsukki.”

Kei is mildly disturbed that he can’t even think up one situation in which he would be kissing a person who was not Yamaguchi Tadashi. Try as he might, nothing comes to mind. He wracks his brain for an answer to give. Honesty wins out.

“It wasn’t an avoidance.”

Yamaguchi knits his brow, peering at Kei skeptically. Kei keeps his eyes straight ahead.

“So you don’t…”

“Don't what?”

“You don’t ever think about that stuff? Kissing?”

A long moment drags by.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh. Gotcha."

Yamaguchi chuckles and it breaks up the tense atmosphere surrounding them. Kei finally turns to look at him and finds Yamaguchi already staring back. Where the blush has faded from Kei’s cheeks, it still burns pink under Yamaguchi’s freckles. His brown hair obstructs Kei’s view of him when the wind changes direction.

“Um, Tsukki.”

“What?”

“Do you think about it…a lot?”

“Kissing?” Kei asks and subsequently realizes that it is far too cold outside for him to be feeling this warm.

“Yeah, kissing. And other stuff, y’know.”

“Oh.” Other stuff. “Sometimes. Not as often as other guys, I don’t think.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi mimics and goes silent.

You’re not getting off that easy, Kei thinks.

“Do you? Think about it often?”

“Yeah,” he answers bashfully, “sort of.”

The exhaustion Kei feels dissipates after that. Yamaguchi gracefully changes the subject to one of the first-years’ performance in practice earlier. Kei kind of wishes he’d accepted that lollipop so he’d have something to distract himself with.

He still feels off-kilter even after he’s dropped Yamaguchi off at his house and arrives at his own. It won’t help him to wonder what exactly it is that Yamaguchi thinks about often when it comes to kissing (and other things) so Kei tries not to. In fact, Kei goes out of his way to pointedly not think about it. The club has an official match coming up soon; he should be thinking about that.

__________

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: —

Sports shop tomorrow morning? Need athletic tape

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

sure thing tsukki i’ll look up train times !!

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

should i ask kageyama and hinata if they wanna come too? hinata was saying something about new shoelaces i think ??

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

Whatever. If you want to

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

classic tsukki…… :> i’ll ask them after practice tonight

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

K. Walking to your place now

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

It’s starting to rain so brace yourself not to slip on our way to school

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

oh noooooo tsukkiiiiii

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

Weather: 5000. Yamaguchi: 0.

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:—

.. that’s probably pretty accurate actually……

_________

 

“Look! She’s back!” Hinata shouts and food goes flying out of his mouth.

“Dumbass, you spit on me!”

“Whoops, sorry. But look, Kageyama!”

“I see her.”

The two slowly approach her with splayed, cautious hands.

“It’s a cat, not a pipe bomb,” Kei tells them.

The feline in question moves like a shadow, bypassing the pair to weave herself around Yamaguchi’s legs. Yamaguchi makes a delighted sound. Hinata and Kageyama huff with envy and Kei snickers.

“No fair,” Kageyama deadpans. “I thought she liked me.”

“Some people think cats can sense character,” Kei informs and continues with a roll of his eyes when Kageyama gives him a signature blank stare, “meaning they can sense if you’re a good person that they can feel safe around.”

“Hey,” Hinata whines, “I’m just as nice as Yamaguchi!”

“You’re probably too loud for her, whereas Yamaguchi has a calming presence,” Kei suggests.

“My presence is calming.”

Hinata laughs, “Are you serious, Kageyama?”

“…Yes?”

“You’re the most unnerving person I’ve ever met! Except maybe Tsukishima. Meeting him was a terror. Remember that?”

Kei’s not sure whether to be proud or offended.

“Yeah. I wanted to punch him so bad.”

“I know,” Hinata laughs and takes another bite of his candy bar.

“You don’t want to punch each other anymore, though,” Yamaguchi notes.

Both Kageyama and Kei shrug indifferently. The cat is in Yamaguchi’s arms now, rubbing her head into his shoulder. Hinata and Kageyama crowd in to pet her. She looks pleased at all the attention. Her black fur blends into Yamaguchi’s jacket in the darkening night and sharp yellow eyes flick between her admirers.

Kageyama replies, “Not all the time, I guess.”

“I think you punch me enough for the both of us,” Hinata grumbles.

“Sorry.”

Hinata stills at the unexpected apology, but continues petting when she butts her hand against his palm. He glances at Kageyama but the setter’s eyes are still trained on the cat. Yamaguchi looks like he wants to hand her off to one of them.

“Hinata, I’ll try to only punch you enough for you from now on,” mumbles Kageyama.

“Progress,” quips Kei.

_________

 

“Touch me,” Tadashi’s pleading, “touch me, kiss me, suck me. C’mon, Tsukki.”

The shadows on his face change in shape and intensity as the bare lightbulb swings around the dark room from a single cord. The yellow patch of light repeatedly swerves from the bed to the floor to the desk and back to the bed again, in that order. Kei’s hands begin to sting uncomfortably; they’ve fallen asleep underneath him.

“Aren’t you gonna touch me?”

“We’re friends,” Kei gulps.

“Good friends?”

Kei nods and screws his eyes shut.

“Best friends.”

“Best friends…” Tadashi repeats, crawling closer on scraped-up knees. Light once again swings away from his face and his pupils dilate in the darkness. His next words come out as a sort of purr. Kei’s hands cramp painfully under his own weight.

“Won’t we be even better friends if you touch me?”

“I, I don’t, I don’t—” Kei struggles.

“I don’t?” Tadashi mocks innocently. Then, “Let’s try it out. Let’s see your hands. Bring them to me. I’m right here. My body’s right here. Hasn’t it always been? Haven’t I always been?”

“Tadashi.”

Tadashi moans, “Yes, Tsukki, that hits the spot, Tsukki.”

Kei gulps again. And again. He pulls his aching hands out from under him.

“Tsukki, please touch me. Please kiss me, Tsukki. I want to be your first.”

“I don’t know—” —what to do.

Yamaguchi’s palms slide against his and their fingers link. It’s like a hot iron on Kei’s sensitive skin, a burn he doesn’t want to pull away from. The swirling spotlight finally stills over the bed. Tadashi’s bare shoulders shake slightly when he giggles.

“You don’t know what to do, huh, Tsukki? It’s okay, look at me.”

Kei does.

“After all, I’ve done this before, remember?”

Warmth slides into his mouth.

The cord above them snaps and the lightbulb crashes onto the ground, swallowing the room in complete darkness.

The contrast when Kei snaps his eyes open is staggering. Morning sunlight streams invasively into his bedroom. He’s breathing hard like he’s been on a run. 

Kei brings his attention to his aching hard-on. Immediate pleasure thrums through his body when he bores his hips down into his mattress. He smells coffee; his mother’s already up. He has to be quiet. Kei quickly shoves his pillow under his comforter and between his legs for additional friction. He grinds his hips down again experimentally and sighs with bliss. Soon, he’s forced to bite into the thick flesh of his palm near his thumb to keep himself from grunting. Kei doesn’t let himself think about anything just yet. He’s getting close, really close, losing the rhythm his body has built up and grinding into his pillow in search for something just out of reach. Quickly, Kei flips himself onto his back and rubs a shaking palm over the tight cloth of his boxers. One thought about that vague warmth slipping between his lips and he comes.

When he finally pulls his hand away from his mouth, a drop of blood hits his pale chest.

Chapter 5: strawberry red

Notes:

gggggghhhh you guys are the best! i'm so happy you're liking this. i'm having a total blast writing it.

comments and kudos are so very appreciated!!!

Kei checks the time and considers bailing on the trip to town, but he knows he shouldn’t since he’s the one who suggested it in the first place. Plus, he doesn’t want to disappoint Yamaguchi.

Of course Kei has had erotic dreams before. He’s seventeen. But in the past, everyone in them was unrecognizable. They were just pieces he used to get to where he needed. Never have they been tan and freckled and agonizingly familiar to him. Kei read somewhere once that dreams can only include people you’ve seen before, though he doesn’t know how a statement like that is testable. Maybe it had been Yamaguchi all this time and he just didn’t let himself realize it.

“Impossible,” he pants.

He shoves his dream to the very back of his mind with an incredible amount of willpower and yet the way Yamaguchi says his nickname when he sees him at the train station dredges it back up. The fact that his hair is tied back the way Kei likes doesn’t help either. He starts to feel like he probably should have just stayed home.

The feeling multiplies when Nishinoya and Tanaka join them on the train, Hinata having texted them the night before. But Yamaguchi looks pleased, so Kei tries not to be a total killjoy. Yamaguchi openly pouts when Kei opts to stand next to the two third-years on the crowded train, but Kei can’t handle being pressed up against him after the morning he’s had.

“I really don’t think frogs have that long of an attention span,” Kageyama’s musing.

“Oh, you’re a frog expert now?” Hinata teases, tongue between his teeth.

Kageyama shoves him. “Maybe I am.”

“I think they’re cool,” Tanaka says, “but snakes are way cooler.”

“What about lizards?” Nishinoya proposes.

“Lizards, totally!”

“I used to catch geckos at my grandparents house all the time.”

“Like, with your bare hands?” Hinata gapes.

“Yep,” Yamaguchi answers.

“But they’re so quick!”

Nishinoya professes with vigor, “Yamaguchi’s a badass!”

“Which do you think’s coolest, Tsukishima?”

“Lizards, probably,” Kei answers, looking up from his phone. “They never stop growing. And some species can squirt blood from their eyes up to four feet.”

“I wish I could do that,” Tanaka says wistfully.

“Why would you ever need to do that?”

Kageyama answers for him, “Nobody would fuck with you if you could shoot blood at them.”

Hinata adds, “From your eyes.”

“Sound reasoning,” says Kei.

 
_________

 
“No. No. No. No. No, no, no, no.”

“C’mon, Tsukishima! Give your senpai a boost! I deserve it!”

“For what?”

“For being on the volleyball team with you for over a year now and never decking you in the gut.”

“Yeah, you’re not being very convincing.”

“Please!” Nishinoya begs. “Just for a minute. You don’t want to lose me in the crowd, do you?”

Hinata suddenly pulls on Kageyama’s sleeve and frets, “What if I get lost in the crowd?”

“You won’t,” Kageyama assures, “there aren’t even a ton of people out today."

“Fine,” Kei folds. Nishinoya’s celebratory jump rivals Hinata’s. “But only if Kageyama will give Hinata one, too.”

“Yes!” Hinata rejoices.

The redhead immediately leaps onto the setter’s back like he’s done this a thousand times. Kageyama staggers around for a moment before straightening. He looks content enough when Hinata locks his arms loosely around his neck and sets his chin on top of his head, looking out at the people who weave through the street. Kei would even say he looks pleased, if just a little flustered. Kei doesn’t have time to grieve his own miscalculation before Tanaka happily lifts the libero onto his back.

“You’re so clingy,” Kei groans as Nishinoya scrabbles at his shoulders.

“Please don’t drop them,” Yamaguchi warns, “we still need them for our game this week.”

“Hear that, Tsukishima? Yamaguchi says be real gentle with me.”

“I am doing this for exactly two minutes. Yamaguchi, keep count.”

“Got it, Tsukki!”

Kei winces when Nishinoya’s shoe brushes the bruise that’s beginning to form on his hand.

Tanaka complains about his hunger as soon as Nishinoya’s feet hit the ground exactly one hundred and twenty seconds later. The group finds the closest, cheapest restaurant they can and they easily immerse themselves in enthusiastic conversation at an open table. Kei excuses himself. He stands outside the place’s bathroom, waiting for a vacancy and messing around on his phone in the meantime.

“Hey.”

A young man stands before him, a bit smaller than himself but at least a few years older. Probably a college student. The guy’s eyebrow is raised in a way that makes Kei think it’s always like that.

“What?” Kei asks.

“You look kind of familiar. I think you’re in one of my classes.”

The line’s so fake Kei wants to heave out a sigh. He barely restrains himself.

“I don’t think so.”

“Are those real glasses?” the guy asks and tucks a long piece of black hair behind his ear.

“Yes.”

“Cool,” the stranger nods. “They look good on you.”

Kei gives him a blank look before turning back to his phone.

“Hurray,” he deadpans.

If this is what guys do to girls, Kei feels deeply for them. He would’ve thought his height and demeanor would put this guy off by now, but so far it’s only seemed to motivate him. Kei thinks maybe he should work on making himself even more unapproachable.

“So, what’s your name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Man, you’re different, huh?” the guy lilts with a glint in his eye.

“Did you need something?” Kei finally sighs, looking up again.

Kei hears footsteps around the corner and then Yamaguchi’s there, looking between the two of them.

“Tsukki?” he says softly.

The stranger smiles and turns back to Kei.

“Tsukki, huh? Damn, that makes you even cuter.”

“I’m leaving,” Kei huffs and pushes past him.

“Wait, let me get your number. Come on, Tsukki, don’t leave me hanging!”

The tone of his voice makes Kei want to turn back around and shove him. It was bad enough when Bokuto and Kuroo would use his nickname, let alone pathetic, desperate college guys trying to pick up high schoolers in bathrooms of fast food places. He’s actually glad when Tanaka appears behind Yamaguchi and walks up to the guy. Kei hates to admit it, but Tanaka’s legitimately stepped up his intimidation game since last year.

“You got a problem?” he asks.

“No,” the guy says coolly, his eyes still on Kei.

“Great. We won’t be seeing you.”

Yamaguchi is nearly plastered to his side as the three of them make their way back to their table. When they sit down, Tanaka lets out a breath and beams. Nishinoya and Kageyama tear their eyes from their mountains of food to watch him.

“How was I? How cool was I back there?” he asks giddily.

Kei takes back anything he’s ever said about Tanaka being intimidating.

“Pretty cool,” Kei answers anyway.

“What happened?” Nishinoya asks, leaning nearly half of his body onto the table between them.

“Some guy.”

"He was totally giving Tsukishima the glad eye! Asked for his number and everything."

“In the bathroom?” Hinata squawks. “That’s not very romantic.”

“What do you know about romance, dumbass?”

“Definitely more than you!” Hinata proclaims and steals some of Kageyama’s fries.

“Please,” Kei interjects, “you’re both equally hopeless.”

“Waff ‘fe cute?” Nishinoya inquires with a mouth full of burger.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really looking at him.”

“No,” Yamaguchi contributes hotly.

Kei sips from Yamaguchi’s shake and wonders what Yamaguchi’s criteria are for that sort of thing, and would Yamaguchi find any guy cute, even? It would be revealing of Kei to ask this, certainly. But it would be a bold-faced lie to say he wasn’t damn curious.

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks, gently plucking his shake from Kei’s hand and taking a sip himself. Kei absently notes that his mouth is exactly where his own was just a moment ago.

“What?” he answers.

“Does that happen to you a lot?”

“Does what happen to me a lot?”

“You know. That,” Yamaguchi says vaguely.

Nishinoya snickers, “He means dudes coming on to you!”

Yamaguchi turns six shades of red and Kei wants to slap Nishinoya upside his empty head.

“F-forget it,” Yamaguchi stutters. “It was a dumb question.”

He hides behind his strawberry shake and Kei wants to hold Yamaguchi’s pretty face in his hands until the needless blush subsides.

________

 

“Sweet,” Hinata sings, “open seats!”

“How’s he not exhausted?” Tanaka yawns.

Within minutes, the two third-years are sprawled over one another on one of the empty train benches. Kei has to lean over and kick Nishinoya’s foot every five minutes to get him to stop snoring, though he's too exhausted to feel irritated about it. Kageyama and Hinata sit on the bench across from him and Yamaguchi. Kageyama taps at his phone and Hinata sits up on his knees to peek over his shoulder.

“Who are you texting?” the redhead asks curiously.

Kei adds, “Basically everyone you even know is on this train.”

Hinata chuckles and Yamaguchi does one of his sleep-guffaws from where his face is pressed against the train window, leaning away from Kei. Kei appreciates his dedication to laugh at his one-liners. Kageyama glares at him and flips his phone closed aggressively. It will be a miracle if that phone makes it past another two months of use.

“It was Yushin,” Kageyama answers.

Hinata squints. “What’s he want?”

“Asking something about our positions for the game this week.”

“We just went over them yesterday!”

“He must be even more forgetful than you, Hinata,” Kageyama says around a yawn and settles deeper into their seat. “I feel like he’s constantly texting me asking about stuff.”

“Volleyball stuff?” Hinata asks after a moment.

“Mostly, yeah,” Kageyama answers, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the seat.

“Mostly?” Kei hears Hinata mutter.

Kei glances at the freckled teen next to him, face still smashed against the train window and drool leaking from the side of his open mouth. He wants to find it gross but simply cannot. Tanaka was right; he is getting soft. He should flick his friend in the ear and tell him to sit up properly like he might’ve when they were smaller. Kei sighs and pulls his headphones over his ears.

He’s embarrassed of how easily Yamaguchi makes his heart swell. An urge to be closer to him sweeps through Kei’s body like a chill. He looks around and sees the rest of the group is already fast asleep save Hinata, who looks restless as usual, but is distracted on his phone (texting the setter from Nekoma, if Kei had to guess). Kei takes his chances and turns so he can lay his back against Yamaguchi’s side, his head tipping to rest on his shoulder. Kei crosses his arms over his chest and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up—sleeping on the train, embarrassing—they've nearly arrived at their stop. Kei sits up, Yamaguchi’s heat vanishing from his back, and tucks his headphones around his neck once again. Tanaka and Nishinoya have moved to join Hinata on his bench. The three of them use great effort to speak quietly as not to wake a snoring Kageyama.

“You guys,” Hinata’s asking in a low voice, “does Yushin text you? About volleyball and stuff?”

Nishinoya and Tanaka exchange glances before shaking their heads.

“He texted me once,” Tanaka says, “when he thought he was gonna be late for practice. But that’s it.”

“I don’t even think I have his number,” Nishinoya admits.

“Bad senpai,” Tanaka condemns.

“Shut up. Why d’you ask anyway, Shouyou?”

Hinata doesn’t lift his gaze from the train floor.

“No reason.”

“You know, Shouyou, he kind of reminds me of you.”

“Yeah, yeah! I get that too!” Tanaka agrees in a kind of whisper-shout.

Hinata exhales glumly, “Yeah, me too.”

_________

 

Karasuno is halfway through their second set against Wakutani South when it happens. They won the first set with little difficulty—Kageyama and Hinata successfully fire off their quick time and time again—and it looks like the second set will be taken just as easily. Wakutani just can’t seem to catch up, especially with their third-years having graduated months prior. There is one member of their team that Karasuno’s been told to keep their eyes on; a stocky second-year with great power but no technique. Kei reads his blocks in a second and once he reminds Hinata and Yushin to do the same, they’re able to shut him down fairly quickly.

But it only works for a while. The guy’s looking particularly electrified when the teams return to the court after Karasuno’s last timeout. His next spike is his most impressive yet. It hurtles directly into Kei’s bruised hand. Kei retracts it with a moan and pain shoots through his palm and up and down his thumb. He hears the ball hit the floor next to him with a thwop and then his teammates are crowded around, their features painted with sweat and concern.

“I’m fine,” he pants, but it does nothing to calm them down.

“Ice it. I’m taking you out for the rest of the set,” Ukai says authoritatively at his side.

“I’ll go with,” Hinata offers.

Kageyama interjects, “Dumbass, we need you to finish the game!”

“Let Yamaguchi take him,” Ennoshita declares and glances at the scoreboard. “We won’t need a pinch server anyway.”

“Really,” Kei growls, “it’s not a big deal.”

Ukai gives him a sharp look. “Big deal or not, your hands are crucial. Put ice on it. The cooler’s in the room we changed in. We’ll meet you back there after the game.”

Several hands swat companionably at his back as he follows a brooding Ukai off the court. The edge of his palm throbs where he rubs it with his opposite thumb. Was that orgasm worth it? he asks himself. The worst part is, Kei thinks it kind of was. After all, his hand has been hurt way worse in previous games than what he feels at the moment.

Kei thought Yamaguchi looked fidgety before due to not playing, but now he looks downright distressed. He’s at Kei’s side the second Yachi calls his name.

“Let’s finish this up!” Ennoshita’s yelling as the two of them exit the gym.

Kei practically sees Yamaguchi’s nerves fraying and crawling up the walls of the changing room. He slips his sports glasses off his face so they hang around his neck before wiping the sleeve of his jersey across his flushed face.

“Relax,” Kei tells him.

“Sorry, Tsukki.” Kei really needs to break him of that habit.

“Seriously. I’m fine.”

“Here.”

Yamaguchi spins around holding a bag of ice he’s wrapped in a towel. Instead of handing it to Kei, he steps up to him and shakes it about in between them. Kei furrows his brow and raises his hand. Yamaguchi wraps the towel around it and presses the chilled bag to Kei’s bruise. His fingertips press lightly into Kei’s palm to keep it balanced. Kei flinches.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says again, “did that hurt?”

“No,” Kei gulps. “Just…cold.”

“Yeah. That’s because it’s ice, Tsukki.”

Kei twitches up the corner of his mouth and rolls his eyes. The excessive use of his nickname makes his heart flutter, or maybe it’s just because Yamaguchi’s standing so close. Either way, Kei feels like he’s been left out in the sun to burn. The ice isn’t helping on that front, though it does its part to lessen the throbbing in his hand.

“I can hold it,” Kei insists, suddenly overheating.

“I’ve got it.”

“Really. Let me.”

“Would you just let me help you for once?”

A blush flares up on Yamaguchi’s face at his outburst. Kei blinks at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You never just let me…” Yamaguchi trails off.

He shoves the ice pack into Kei’s good hand and steps away. Kei stays silent even though he knows Yamaguchi doesn’t have a follow up (or if he does, he won’t spit it out). The ice pack hangs at his side and chills his thigh through his shorts. When Yamaguchi finally turns back to him again, his eyes flicker to Kei's injured hand and then go wide.

“Jesus, Tsukki,” he says, hands coming up touch at Kei’s palm again. “What’d you do?”

He eyes the bruise and what is noticeably a deep bite mark and a tiny scar on his hand right between his index finger and thumb. Yamaguchi’s naturally sharp eyes squint, widen, and squint again. Kei watches his expression change a good five times. He steps close to him again. If only Kei had the time, he could plot out constellations on the splatter of freckles across the bridge of Yamaguchi’s nose.

“Tsukki?”

“What?”

“What’d you do? What’s this?”

“The ball—” Kei tries, but Yamaguchi’s abrupt chuckle cuts him off short.

“Unless the volleyball grew teeth and bit you, I really don’t think so.”

“Science has come so far.”

Yamaguchi laughs again and has the nerve to run his fingertip curiously over the tiny scar near Kei’s thumb. Kei blanches at the contact.

“Fine,” he admits, “it was me.”

“Tsukki.”

“What?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Kei repeats.

“Why are you biting the crap out of your hand?”

Kei twitches and pulls his hand from Yamaguchi’s surveying eyes and calloused fingers. Yamaguchi takes a small step back like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. There is nothing Kei hates more than not knowing what to say. He feels helpless around Yamaguchi for the second time ever.

“I just,” Kei struggles. “I was.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi breathes, eyes widening once more.

“Oh what?”

“Oh,” he repeats. “I get it. No, yeah, I get it.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes flicker around and won’t settle.

“Get what, Tadashi?”

Yamaguchi immediately turns his eyes on him at that. Okay, Kei will admit, this was kind of a random time to use his given name, even if he only does it when they’re alone, anyway. What compelled me to do that at this moment in particular? he wonders. The infamous dream floats to his mind.

The object of his most satisfying and shameful dream yet stands before him and Kei is calling him Tadashi, like his dream-self had. In the dream, Yamaguchi had loved it; gotten off on it, practically. He wonders how Yamaguchi feels when Kei calls him by his given name in reality. He’s surprised, obviously, but that’s only because Kei doesn’t do it very often. Yamaguchi refuses to look at him, hand rubbing at the back of his neck when he responds.

“Tsukki, I’m not brain-dead. I’m a teenage boy too, y’know.”

Kei definitely knows this.

“I know you aren’t brain-dead,” Kei states. Then, “So. You.”

“Duh.” Yamaguchi grins almost shyly.

“Well. I didn’t mean to, uh. This.”

They both look down at his hand where Kei’s placed the ice pack once again.

“Use your pillow next time. Or a softcover book.”

Kei lofts an eyebrow. “A softcover book?”

He’d rather use the skin of Yamaguchi’s neck or maybe his bare shoulder. He’d rather he not have to stifle himself in the first place. Kei makes a mental note to subtly check Yamaguchi’s books for bite marks next time he’s at his place.

Chapter 6: they play with matches

“Tsukishima-kun? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Kei is not in the mood to deal with a confession at the moment. He’s hungry and just wants to go eat his lunch in the courtyard with the others. The weather is the nicest it’s been all week; bright and sunny with no cloud cover. The tall, blonde girl in front of him shifts her weight from foot to foot as she waits for him to reply. Kei’s pretty sure she’s the same girl who'd asked for Yamaguchi’s notes a few weeks back, but he could be wrong.

“I guess. What is it?”

“Well, you and Yamaguchi are friends.”

“So?”

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling me a little about him!”

This is not where Kei thought this was going. His empty stomach rumbles in the silence.

“What?” he questions, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“I mean, what does he like?” the girls asks.

She flicks her head and her long, blonde hair tumbles over her shoulder. Kei stares at her like she’s growing a second head right in front of him. This is a wild inversion of when girls would pull Yamaguchi aside only to ask about Kei. He thinks they still do this and either Kei’s failed to notice (which is unlikely) or Yamaguchi has stopped telling him. Kei always refuses. But what would Yamaguchi do if he knew girls were asking about him? Familiar knots tie in Kei’s stomach as he stares at her. Everything in him does not want to talk about this.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” he says dismissively.

“I can’t. I’m nervous.”

“Around Yamaguchi?”

“Well, yeah,” she answers, pale cheeks turning a bright red.

“He’s approachable.” I’m the one who’s not, Kei thinks.

“I don’t think you’d get it, Tsukishima-kun.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I just mean that you never accept confessions. A couple of my friends have asked you out and you said no to both of them right away,” the blonde replies with a friendly grin. “N-not that I’m angry with you for any of that, though!”

“Right…”

“So? Can you tell me some things about Yamaguchi?”

Kei wouldn’t know where to start even if he wanted to. He lists his favorite things in his head: Tadashi is hardworking. He loves volleyball, though not to an unnatural Kageyama-and-Hinata extent. He is insecure, but he gains confidence by the day. He would do anything for his friends—for me. He loves to help, even when there’s nothing in it for him. He is selfless. He is quiet but is getting louder. He likes video games; Pokémon is his favorite. Agree with him on that and he could talk for hours. On rare occasions, he ties his hair back. Mostly when it’s windy outside. He’s extremely clumsy in bad weather. He hugs his pillow to his chest in his sleep instead of lying his head on it like a normal person. He has soft hands. Freckles dot not only his face but his knees, shoulders, and arms. I would do anything to watch him do nothing for hours. I am his favorite.

Kei realizes immediately that she can never know any of these things.

_________

“Where’ve you been?” Kageyama asks around his straw when Kei approaches.

“Some girl,” Kei shrugs. He sits down and unwraps his bento.

“Confession?” Hinata asks enthusiastically. “Any sweets? Huh?”

“No and no.”

Hinata groans, “Darn. I have a sweet tooth today.”

“She was asking about Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi turns his body on the bench they share to gape at him. Kageyama and Hinata look equally nonplussed.

“She came up to you, scary Tsukishima, to talk about the sweet and nice Yamaguchi?”

Kei rolls his eyes at Hinata even though he had thought the exact same thing.

“Who was it?” Yamaguchi asks, cocking his head. Kei clenches his teeth.

“A girl in our class. She’s tall and blonde. That’s as specific as I can be.”

“Oh, Karin-kun!” Yamaguchi realizes, smiling. “She’s smart and stuff, but I don’t really think she’s my type.”

Kei could hug him. He’d gotten bent out of shape for nothing. Kageyama looks skeptical.

“Smart?” mimics Kageyama, shoving his mouth full of rice. “Blonde? Tall?” He swallows. “That’s not your type? Are you sure?”

Kei immediately lifts his eyes from his lunch to stare daggers at the setter. He wishes he had literal ones in his arsenal, because he would certainly use them right now. Kageyama is too dense to be properly sarcastic and so his tone is more incredulous than anything. Kei resists the urge to chance a glance at Yamaguchi.

“Let’s talk about your type, King,” Kei says coolly, and that shuts him up.

Hinata vehemently agrees, “Let’s do that!”

“I don’t have a type,” he grumbles.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kei feigns innocence. “I think I can put it in a few carefully chosen adjectives.”

“Shut up. Don’t.”

“Or I can just point, if you’d prefer?”

“I’m going to get more milk,” Kageyama mutters, standing up from the table and stalking away.

Hinata shouts, “Hey?! Don’t leave so suddenly!”

And then Hinata’s trailing after him, lunch left forgotten on the table. Kei sputters when Yamaguchi pinches his side. He glares down at his lunch and rubs his palm over the sore spot.

“You shouldn't do that to them, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi scolds.

Kei huffs, “Are you their handler?”

Yamaguchi ignores that and picks at the food in front of him.

“I do like blond hair, I guess,” he mumbles.

“You think Yachi is cute. She has blonde hair,” Kei replies and as soon as the words come out, he’s not really sure why he’s said them.

“Yeah…” Yamaguchi nods, sounding distant. “So what did you say to her? Karin, I mean.”

“She asked me to tell you some things about you.”

“What did you tell her?”

Kei shrugs. “You like volleyball.”

“I’m pretty sure she already knew that, Tsukki.”

“Well, what did you want me to tell her?” Kei asks, turning an intense gaze on Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi rubs his palm against the back of his neck and considers.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” he decides finally.

Kei leans over slightly to press his shoulder to Yamaguchi’s for the briefest second. When he goes to lean back, Yamaguchi follows him. They sit like that until Kageyama and Hinata return, bickering, with their drinks.

__________
 

 

from: tsukki☽

subject: —

Do you want to hang out?

 

to: tsukki☽

subject: —

totally tsukki!

 

from: tsukki☽

subject: —

K. Almost done with dinner

 

to: tsukki☽

subject: —

no school tomorrow so sleep over at my house ??

 

from: tsukki☽

subject: —

Yesss

 

to: tsukki☽

subject: —

:)! come over whenever

 

from: tsukki☽

subject: —

Leaving in 15

 

__________

 

“His head wouldn’t pop off into the air like that. Look at the trajectory of that laser beam.”

“It’s science fiction, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi laughs.

“Surely the laws of physics still exist in the future.”

“Maybe they were more focused on building those sex robots we saw at the beginning.”

“Guess so. Odd prioritizing, but okay.”

“Whatever you say, Tsukki.”

The movie freezes every few minutes because they watch it on Yamaguchi’s ancient laptop he’s had since Kei met him. Yamaguchi’s thigh is warm against his under the blanket, their backs against the headboard of Yamaguchi’s bed. Kei has no idea how he can be wearing a tank top and boxers in the frigid abode when he himself has on jeans and a long sleeve shirt with a sweater thrown over it.

He focuses on the shitty movie but he admits that Yamaguchi is pretty distracting. He looks especially good tonight, Kei thinks, and chalks it up to his easy smile, the way he’s tied his hair back, and not to mention the clothes he currently lacks on his tall, thin frame. Kei keeps having to remind himself that this is normal. They have done this a thousand times and Kei always thinks Yamaguchi looks nice, no matter his appearance.

Kei’s just been hypersensitive today. He blames it on the rising temperature throughout the week. He can’t pinpoint why, but he just needed to see Yamaguchi tonight. It’s not like the night of his dream all those weeks ago, either; there was no desperation or panic in that need. Kei just wants to be near him. He just wants to hear him talk.

“Yamaguchi, aren’t you cold?”

“Nope, Tsukki. Don’t tell me you are. You’ve got all the clothes in the world on.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Nearly.”

“It’s not my fault you basically live in an igloo.”

“You think you’d be used to it by now. It’s probably just your cold heart.”

“Wow,” Kei deadpans.

Yamaguchi explodes at that, shoving himself into Kei’s side and laughing heartily into the fabric at Kei’s shoulder. He pulls his legs up to his chest from under the blanket and Kei gets an eyeful of smooth, tan skin. Kei lets himself laugh too. He brings his hand up to pat Yamaguchi's head. The strands of chestnut hair between Kei’s fingers pull out of his loose ponytail and fall around Yamaguchi’s face when he leans back. On the laptop screen, the movie freezes.

“What’s that?” Kei asks, pointing to the book he spies on the nightstand behind Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi reaches to grab it and turns it over in his hands. “Just a comic.”

Kei takes it from him and runs his fingers over the cover. There are no grooves.

“What?” Yamaguchi asks, moving over to get a better look at it.

“Just inspecting.”

Yamaguchi snorts, “Tsukki, you’re wei—”

“For bite marks.”

“Huh?”

Kei tears his eyes from the comic to look at him. He knows his eyes are widening at the realization of what he’s said aloud. I need to relax, Kei tells himself. This is not a topic that should be brought up again. Kei knows this. But he can’t deny the satisfying thrill that shoots through him at that moment.

“Are you making fun of me?” Yamaguchi asks, hurt.

Kei sputters, “What? No.”

“Okay…”

“And look,” Kei continues, splaying his hands out, “no marks.”

Yamaguchi perks up. He pulls his legs underneath him to sit on his knees across from Kei. Tentatively, he places his fingertips under Kei’s hovering palm and uses his opposite index finger to trace the healed hand for marks.

“Good Tsukki,” he says like he’s praising a pet.

“I’m evolving,” Kei quips.

“Hey, ah, Tsukki?”

Kei simultaneously dreads and adores the unfamiliar tone Yamaguchi’s voice takes on.

“What do you think about? When you…”

“I’m not answering that,” Kei says immediately.

He pulls his pale hand from Yamaguchi’s light grip but Yamaguchi reaches out quickly to steady it. His fingertips once again press lightly to Kei’s sweaty palm. Kei’s heart pounds traitorously in his ears.

“Friends don’t talk about this,” Kei insists.

“I’ve talked about it,” Yamaguchi admits shyly, “with Hinata.”

Kei doesn’t know what to say to that. He intends to bury the subject in silence, but Yamaguchi seems suddenly persistent. They’ve stayed up too late. Maybe they’re slaphappy from sleep deprivation. The same clothes that were barely keeping him warm before now broil every inch of skin they touch. Yamaguchi has the nerve to slowly slide his index finger from Kei’s knuckle down to the tip of his fingernail and Kei shudders. It’s his undoing.

“Kei,” Yamaguchi murmurs, “do you maybe think about me?”

With one heaving, stuttering breath, Kei gives himself away. He feels himself nod weakly. There’s a sharp inhale of the air between them. With his exhale, Yamaguchi runs his index finger in nonsensical patterns over the back of Kei’s palm. Kei feels dizzy watching it.

“Hinata asked me if I thought about you when I did. I told him I didn’t.”

The statement is sobering. Kei hums in response, afraid to open his mouth.

“Tsukki. I lied.”

Kei jolts like he’s been electrified and his hand finally slips from Yamaguchi’s grip. Is it a dream? Kei wonders. Did I fall asleep on Yamaguchi’s bed watching that shitty movie? Kei clears his throat when he realizes Yamaguchi expects him to reply.

“What do you think about, Tadashi?” he asks slowly.

It’s Yamaguchi’s turn to shiver.

He answers, “That.”

“Tadashi,” Kei repeats, unable to stop himself. “What else?”

Yamaguchi leans forward on his knees to quickly graze his fingertips against the backs of Kei’s hands.

“These.”

Kei nods, feeling invigorated. Adrenaline quakes under his skin and spurs him onward. A voice in the back of his mind tries to reel him in but he’s too high to listen now. The feeling is similar to coming to the very peak of a roller coaster. He can practically hear the clacking of the gears as they climb.

“What—what about you?” Yamaguchi whispers.

“I don’t want to say.”

“That’s,” Yamaguchi starts, but has to pause; he’s breathing hard. “That’s not fair, Tsukki.”

“Yamaguchi,” Kei gulps. “Friends don’t talk about—”

Yamaguchi interrupts, “Kei, I don’t think friends get off thinking about each other.”

If it’s possible, Kei’s face burns hotter. He cannot deny him this now. Kei would be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that wanted Yamaguchi to know which of his features that he spends nights thinking about. Mostly, Kei wants him to know that there is so much of him that he cherishes. But the thought of verbalizing this makes him want to hide. When Kei eventually meets his eyes, Yamaguchi seems like he’s on the verge of breaking; like he’s reached his confidence quota for the night and is about to sprint from the room.

“I think about…” Kei begins, and Yamaguchi visibly settles.

“What?” he prompts.

“These.” Kei rests two fingertips low on Yamaguchi’s left thigh.

“I think about…these,” Yamaguchi mumbles, motioning to Kei’s eyes.

“These.” A tap on Yamaguchi’s forearms.

“These.” A light squeeze of Kei’s biceps over his sweater.

“These.” Kei touches Yamaguchi’s elbows. Then he pokes Yamaguchi’s knees. He runs his palms lightly over Yamaguchi’s shoulders. Lastly, Kei leans in to quickly smooth the pads of his thumbs under Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“F-freckles?” Yamaguchi stutters.

“Yeah. Freckles,” Kei replies with effort.

His breaths are coming rapidly and his heart threatens to punch a merciless hole through his ribcage. He’s anxious, excited—aroused. He doesn’t know which feeling to turn towards. Yamaguchi’s breathing is just as quick. Kei may explode if they don’t settle down soon. The bed dips a little as Yamaguchi walks closer to him on his knees.

“These,” Yamaguchi pants, hands settling low on Kei’s hips.

Kei grunts involuntarily and then immediately tries to squirm out of Yamaguchi’s grip. Too real, too real, too real, his brain is screaming at him. Too real, too good. Too good to be real.

“I can’t, I need to, can we just,” Kei slips on his words like they’re ice.

“Tsukki, just a couple more. Can I please tell you?”

Me too, Kei thinks, I have so many more. But Yamaguchi was never supposed to know even a single one and now he’s leaning even closer. Kei suppresses a shake when Yamaguchi’s fingers settle right below his mouth. He feels the last of his composure fall through his fingers.

“This,” Yamaguchi mumbles and kisses him.

The feeling is foreign, to say the least. Yamaguchi’s lips are so soft. Are people’s lips usually this soft? Kei doesn’t care and just sacrifices himself to the feeling, slightly moving his mouth when Yamaguchi moves his. Their noses bump and Kei shivers when Yamaguchi puffs a stuttering laugh against his lips. Calloused fingertips ghost over his chin. Kei turns his head to change their angle when their noses bump once more. Oh yeah, he thinks, this is better. Yamaguchi’s lips slot satisfyingly against his; the last two pieces of a puzzle they’ve been working on for years.

Yamaguchi tightens his grip on Kei’s hips and Kei gasps. Heat swoops low in his stomach—back and forth, back and forth—when Yamaguchi licks at the inside of his bottom lip. Kei’s glasses press uncomfortably into his face but he makes no move to take them off; if he does, he fears he’ll let go completely. Kei tentatively works his own tongue to slide against Yamaguchi’s, chasing the alien feeling. Yamaguchi buzzes a low hum into his mouth.

The sensation reminds him much of his dream. That hot, wet heat parts his lips and fills his willing mouth. But there is no crashing of a lightbulb, no mocking and desperate Tadashi repeating his nickname like a scratched record. There is only Yamaguchi, warm and familiar and closer than he’s ever been.

“Kei, one more,” Yamaguchi breathes.

Kei goes in for one more kiss. He’s simultaneously relieved and devastated; if they don’t stop soon, Kei will lose control of the situation more than he already has. But this isn’t what Yamaguchi means.

He whispers into Kei’s open mouth, “This.”

He moves one of his hands from Kei’s hip to settle it over the large bulge in Kei’s jeans. Kei abruptly breaks the kiss and jerks back so fiercely that he knocks his head against Yamaguchi’s headboard and it clatters into the wall.

“Jesus, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi exclaims. “Are you okay? Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Kei pants, “and I’m fine. I’m fine.”

The two of them sit there on Yamaguchi’s bed. Their breathing fills the expanding silence. Kei sneaks glances at the freckled teen across from him: chest rising and falling rapidly, tank top rucked up and exposing a tan hipbone, eyelids heavy over dilated pupils and precious lips kissed red. He quickly eyes the clear outline of Yamaguchi’s hard-on through thin, purple boxers. Yamaguchi slowly wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. When he rests his palm flat on his thigh, Kei's own spit shines from it in the dim light of Yamaguchi's bedroom. Kei's hands twitch at his sides. Arousal bubbles pleasantly low in his belly.

He catalogues these details because he cannot ever see them again.

Bring your hand back to me, Kei thinks desperately.

An entire minute drags by before he recovers enough to speak again.

“Yamaguchi, I,” he says, carefully plucking words from his scattered mind, “I let that go too far.”

“Too far?” Yamaguchi asks quietly. His tan face goes unnaturally pale.

“Shit, I—I can’t focus—can I—I’ll be right back.”

Kei palms himself as he leans against the back of the bathroom door and comes the fastest he ever has in his life. After he cleans up and stops reeling, he looks in the mirror. There’s the slightest swooping in his stomach when he notices the tint on his lips from Yamaguchi’s working against them. Kei feels positively empty as he walks back down the dark hallway to the bedroom.

When he returns, Yamaguchi isn’t hard anymore either. Either that or he’s soft enough now that Kei can’t tell through the sweatpants he’s slipped on over his boxers. He sits cross-legged on his bed and starts when Kei shuts the bedroom door behind him. He sits down.

“I didn’t mean to let that happen.”

“Sorry, Tsukki. I started it.”

Kei flinches. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“…You didn’t like it,” Yamaguchi concludes, looking down at his lap.

Kei huffs a pathetic, mirthless laugh.

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

“I thought,” Yamaguchi stumbles as he rubs the back of his neck, “I mean, since we said that we thought about each other. I thought that meant—”

“We can’t,” Kei says firmly.

He stares straight ahead because if he looks at Yamaguchi, he’ll take it all back. Kei thinks that if Yamaguchi were someone else, he might ask Kei why. Instead, Yamaguchi hums and scrubs his hands over his face.

“It’s my fault,” he whines through his fingers.

“No.”

He murmurs, “But, Tsukki, I said so much.”

“I did too,” Kei replies. “But we’re friends.”

“Friends,” Yamaguchi repeats, wincing like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “Okay then.”

Kei takes a deep breath. “It was my fault that it happened. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Yamaguchi asks, and then rolls away from him on the bed to tend to his laptop.

For what? Kei thinks. I’m sorry for saying so much. I’m sorry for touching you. I’m sorry for letting you touch me. I’m sorry for breaking my own rule. I’m sorry that I know what you taste like, and I’m sorry that I won’t ever forget it. I’m sorry that I think of you in that way. I’m sorry I let you know it. And I’m sorry that it has to be me you’re stuck thinking about in that way. I’m sorry I thought with my body instead of my head, or if I was thinking with my head, I’m sorry my logic abandoned me. I’m sorry I wasn’t more in control of myself like I usually am. I’m sorry I won’t ever be what you deserve.

“Say, Tsukki, d’you want to finish up that movie?”

“Okay.”

How do you rebuild a dam you’ve willingly broken?

Notes:

<3

Chapter 7: a sort of quiet aftermath

to: Akiteru

subject: —

Are you still friends with any of the girls you dated in high school?

 

from: Akiteru

subject: —

Kei! I haven’t talked to u in like six weeks and this is what u text me with?!

 

to: Akiteru

subject: —

Sorry. How are you Akiteru?

 

from: Akiteru

subject: —

I’m ok! I think I might be getting a cold actually. Btw that plant u got me is still alive! Work’s been super busy but I’m gonna try to get a weekend off soon to come c u and Mom. Dad wants to c us too but I told him I’d talk to u first. The weather here has been so nice lately, it’s amazing how the seasons change so quickly

 

to: Akiteru

subject: —

Yeah

 

to: Akiteru

subject: —

So are you still friends with any of the girls you dated in high school?

 

________ 

 

Sharp smacking sounds resound in the empty gym as the volleyball moves from the floor to the wall to Kei’s stinging palm. The repetition calms him. He doesn’t look over when a blur comes to stand at the gym doors.

“Still here?”

“What’s it look like, King?”

“Cut it out,” Kageyama snaps. “I thought you’d stopped calling me that stupid name.”

Kei grits his teeth. Kageyama shifts in place, watching the path of the volleyball Kei’s abusing.

“Hinata and I are leaving. Are you coming?”

“Where’s Yamaguchi?”

“Still talking to Ennoshita in the club room.”

“You can go ahead.”

“We can wait for him,” Kageyama offers unexpectedly. Kei grabs the spinning ball out of the air and holds it to his chest.

“It’s fine. Go ahead.”

“Okay. Good work today.”

“Good work today,” Kei parrots.

He walks up the metal stairs to the club room just as Ennoshita descends them. The captain adjusts his bag on his shoulder and yells out to Kinoshita—Kei didn’t even notice him—that he’ll be there momentarily. Ennoshita rests a heavy hand on Kei’s shoulder.

“Try to be supportive, okay?” he demands. Kei blinks at him.

“What?”

“See you tomorrow, Tsukishima,” Ennoshita nods.

Kei watches until he and Kinoshita are around the corner before he continues to the club room.

“Hey, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi chirps when he walks in.

“Hey.”

Yamaguchi pulls a fresh t-shirt out of his bag and tugs his practice shirt over his head. Kei thought it would be easier to see him like this after their kiss, but he’s found that it’s quite the opposite. When they’re alone together, Kei feels something tense between them. Like there is something they should be doing that they aren’t. The air is heavy. Kei’s pretty sure he knows what that something is and the thought cripples him.

He wants to reach over, to pull Yamaguchi closer so they can pick up where they left off. The idea is simultaneously thrilling and devastating. He thinks of Yamaguchi’s warm, steady palm pressing over the tight denim of his jeans (he hasn’t worn them since). It muddles his clear mind. It scrambles his thoughts. This is especially disconcerting for someone like Kei, who prides himself on his consistent composure and lucidity. Yamaguchi doesn’t even seem to notice. Kei should find this relieving, but it just cuts too deep. What cuts deeper are the constant reminders that this distance is his own decision.

“Ready to go?” Yamaguchi asks when they’ve both changed.

“Ready.”

“Did Hinata and Kageyama leave already?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh? When?”

“Not too long ago,” Kei answers.

“We should catch up with them.”

“I’m sure they’ll be at Sakonoshita when we pass.”

“I could use a pork bun. You want one, Tsukki?”

“Definitely.”

Yamaguchi beams a thousand-watt smile, the setting sun casting his face in orange.

Kei was right; Hinata and Kageyama sit bickering at a nearby table when he and Yamaguchi walk by the shop. They pop inside to purchase their respective buns before returning to the other two second-years.

“Like clockwork,” Kei mutters.

“Yeah. Except, look.”

“Hm?”

“Yamaguchi-san! Tsukishima-san!” Yushin shouts, turning around in his seat to face them.

“Hi, Yushin,” Yamaguchi smiles. Kei gives a small nod.

When the two of them sit down next to Hinata, Kageyama rises.

“I'm gonna get another,” he says.

Yushin agrees instantly, “Me too!”

The first-year leaps up and scuttles into the shop after the setter. Hinata lets out a long groan. Its intensity makes Kei raise his eyebrows.

“He’s so annoying,” Hinata complains.

Kei coughs, “How annoying does he have to be if you’re saying that?”

“Don’t be mean to me. Yamaguchi, tell him not to be mean to me. I’m in the middle of a crisis.”

“No, you’re not,” Yamaguchi soothes.

“What’s the big deal?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Probably not,” agrees Kei.

“Shouyou, you’ve got to relax.”

“I’m so calm!” Hinata yells.

“Clearly.”

“Tsukki,” scolds Yamaguchi.

“Yamaguchi’s right. Just relax.”

Yamaguchi takes a different route.

He pats the redhead on the back and compliments, “You did an awesome job at practice! Your receives have improved so much.”

Hinata perks up. “You think so?”

“Yep. I hardly recognize them from last year.”

“Recognize what?” Kageyama asks as he and Yushin walk around the corner, brown bags in hand.

“Shouyou’s receives,” Yamaguchi answers. “Don’t you think so, Kageyama?”

“Oh. Yeah. You don’t suck half as much as you used to.”

“That’s hardly a compliment!” Hinata yelps. “Next time just stop after ‘yeah’.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kageyama replies without a hint of sarcasm.

Yushin comments, “Hard to believe there was ever a time that Hinata-san wasn’t good.”

“Even Tsukki agrees he’s improved drastically.”

“Yeah, Tsukishima?!”

“It’s true,” Kei says.

“Don’t get too confident. There’s still a lot of improving to do. For all of us.”

“You sound so wise, Kageyama-san,” Yushin fawns.

Kei outright laughs. Kageyama shoots him a dirty look and Yushin continues to look love-struck at the setter. Hinata mumbles something to Yamaguchi that Kei doesn’t catch, but it makes Yamaguchi cough a laugh. Yushin finally pries his eyes off Kageyama and unwraps his food.

“Thanks again, Kageyama,” he says.

“For what?” Hinata pipes up.

“He bought my pork bun!” Yushin says with delight and chomps away at his food.

Hinata looks like he wants to unhinge his jaw and swallow him whole.

“Huh?!” he croaks. “How come you never buy my pork bun, Kageyama?”

“I’ve tried to.” Kageyama blinks at him. “You said you didn’t like it because it made you feel like my girlfriend.”

The setting sun exacerbates the red blush growing on Hinata’s pale cheeks. Kei’s sure he’s not helping with the way he chuckles at the both of them, but he can’t help himself. It’s too good.

“I-I didn’t say it like that!”

“It was something like that.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t that!”

“Guess I’m your girlfriend now, Kageyama-san!” Yushin jokes around a mouthful of food.

“Get me out of here,” Kei pleads with a tug to Yamaguchi’s sleeve.

_________

 

“I already have a flying type,” Yamaguchi tells him, tapping his stylus against his chin, “but I really want this one Pidgey.”

“Why that one in particular?”

“I dunno. He’s cute. I get good vibes from him.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Yamaguchi had come over to work on their assignments, but his pile of papers sits abandoned on the floor between he and Kei. Kei scribbles in answers on his own paper and listens to the freckled teen tap incessantly at his handheld.

“Got him!” Yamaguchi rejoices after a minute.

“Congratulations, Yamaguchi.”

“Thanks, Tsukki! Now, what to name him.”

“Do you nickname them all?” asks Kei, looking up from his assignment.

“Of course,” Yamaguchi answers.

His tongue pokes out of his mouth in concentration as he taps at his DS again. Kei’s heartbeat speeds up just enough for him to notice it. He stamps down the bubbling feeling in his chest and returns his eyes to the paper before him. He only looks back up when Yamaguchi shuts the console down and sets it on the table between them.

“What?” asks Kei.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he insists and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

Like that? Kei thinks.

“Oh.”

Yamaguchi looks like he wants to say something more but drops it. His hand falls back into his lap, fingers rolling into his palm. It’s another few seconds before he speaks up again.

“You know when Ennoshita was talking to me in the club room?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he asked me something.”

“Is that so?” asks Kei, flicking his pencil against the table.

“He asked if I wanted to be the vice captain of Karasuno this year.”

“What did you say?”

Yamaguchi clenches and unclenches his fist.

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“You didn’t say yes?” Kei responds with a furrowed brow.

Yamaguchi pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. He looks so small when he does that. Kei wants to reach out. His knuckles go white as he firmly grips the pencil in his hand. Yamaguchi sets his chin on his knee and looks up at Kei through his eyelashes. Kei’s glad he never got far enough as to tell Yamaguchi how this particular pose makes him feel.

“I just have to think about it,” Yamaguchi answers meekly.

“What’s there to think about? You’d be great.”

He lifts his head. “You think so, Tsukki?”

“You know I do.”

“I didn’t know that, actually.”

Kei resists the urge to clear his throat. He turns back to his assignment and steadies his pencil over the page.

“Well, you would. You’ve progressed more than any of us in the last year.”

“Even you, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks skeptically.

Kei nods. “Especially me.”

Yamaguchi picks up his DS again and continues, “I don’t know about that. But Hinata said he thinks I should do it, too. Maybe I will.” He opens the console and the electronic music rings from it once again. “Ennoshita-san said Tanaka is his second choice. I think he’s pretty suited for the vice captain position, don’t you think?”

“Not level-headed enough,” Kei says automatically. His brain is stuck on the fact that Yamaguchi told Hinata before him.

“Sure, but he knows how to rile people up. I can’t do that.”

“Tanaka-san has never once riled me up.”

“Nothing riles you up, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi chirps happily, but Kei can think of a few choice things. By the way Yamaguchi’s eyes can’t seem the settle on him, Kei guesses Yamaguchi can too.

“There is more to being vice captain than getting the players going. It’s about keeping your cool. It’s about strategizing and recognizing your teammates’ strong and weak points. It’s about utilizing those things to the team’s advantage on the court,” rambles Kei, homework forgotten. “Sugawara-san didn’t rile people up, did he? He was always calm and used his head in tough situations instead of getting frustrated. That’s why we all trusted him so much. That’s what made him a great vice captain.”

“Wow,” Yamaguchi breathes after a moment, “maybe you should be vice captain, Tsukki.”

“No way in hell.”

“But you’re smart. You’re smarter than me—”

“Yama—”

“Not to mention you always keep your cool,” Yamaguchi continues.

“If Ennoshita-san wanted me as vice captain, he would have asked me.”

Yamaguchi hums thoughtfully. Kei turns his way.

“But who did he ask?”

“Me,” Yamaguchi answers.

“Right. Consider it.”

“I will,” Yamaguchi replies with a huge smile, “I will, Tsukki!”

__________

 

Kei loves his mother. He really does. But maybe not so much when she drags him over to the couch after dinner and makes him sit through made-for-television romance movies with her. Kei concedes after many sighs, realizing that he doesn’t spend much time with her. Since Akiteru left, if Kei’s not spending time with her, she’s alone. A harsh guilt rips through him at that thought. It’s not like he’s got anything particular he should be doing tonight anyway. So he can suck it up and watch one movie. After all, it has to be better than the ones he was forced to watch at Ennoshita’s.

Kei tells his mother of those and says, “If there is one helicopter explosion, I’m leaving.”

“Fair enough,” she replies, pleased.

A man and a woman meet late-night on a bridge. Kei thinks it is unlikely that the two of them just happen to be single and attracted to each other and in the same place at the same time. His eyes roll into the back of his head when it starts to rain. It must be so easy for some people, Kei thinks enviously. He lets his thoughts wander as the couple on the television screen meet for a candlelit dinner. How many people are in the same situation as I am? he ponders, though he hates to put his situation into words because it sounds pathetic.

“Mom,” Kei says over the film, “were you and dad ever friends?”

His mother tears her eyes from the television to look at him. There’s a pregnant pause as she thinks. On the screen, the man feeds the woman a bite of fish. Kei grimaces.

“We were friends before we ever dated, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It is.”

“Yes. Good friends, even.”

Kei doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to without giving himself away.

“And then it became romantic?” Kei asks and his mother laughs at him outright.

“‘Romantic’?” she repeats amusedly. “You’re so funny, Kei. So grown up. I don’t know where you get that from.” Kei pouts and ducks when she leans over to ruffle his hair. She continues, “We’d been good friends for a number of years before he finally told me how he felt.”

“And you just happened to feel the same?” Kei asks, skeptical.

“Yep. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Yikes,” Kei deadpans. “But I have another question.”

“Sure. But hurry up, I have a feeling something good’s gonna happen soon,” his mother says, motioning to the television. Kei has serious doubts about that but formulates his question quickly anyway.

“This is going to sound like it has an obvious answer,” he says, “but which was better?”

“What do you mean?”

Kei fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “The romance or the friendship?”

His mother cocks her head at him, brows cinching together. Kei starts to regret his words. He wishes a helicopter would zoom into the candlelit restaurant on screen and explode so he could keep his promise and escape to his room.

“Well, it’s not like one disappears when the other starts,” she states like it’s obvious.

“But,” Kei starts, but pauses when he has no follow-up.

“Kei, that friendship doesn’t just go away when you start dating. It’s not an either-or. If you ask me, friendship is the most important part of a romantic relationship. If you have a strong foundation, there’s nowhere to go but up.”

Nowhere to go but up, Kei thinks, nodding. But he can’t accept that.

“But when you break up, so will that foundation,” he mutters more to himself than his mother.

“For some people, I suppose,” she replies, nodding back thoughtfully. She turns a big grin on him and insists, “But that’s a risk you’ve got to be willing to take, right?”

She looks back to the television and Kei subsequently does the same, though the film goes in one ear and out the other. Kei doesn’t take a lot of risks. Adrenaline feels foreign to him. His heart only pumps fast either at practice or—involuntarily—when he’s with Yamaguchi. He still finds it hard to believe that they have kissed one another; that Kei ever managed to get that close and to lose that much control of himself. It’s been weeks but if Kei thinks hard enough, he can still feel that slippery heat in his mouth. With each day it starts to feel more like dream rather than a memory. Kei thinks maybe it would be better them both if that were true. But, try as he might, he can’t forget it. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

What would have happened if I hadn’t pulled back? he wonders. How far would it have gone? Would I have touched him in the way he tried to touch me? Would I have been able to resist?

He stops his train of thought abruptly and yanks himself back to reality. Of course he could have been able to resist. He anchors his tired eyes on the television screen and watches as the couple stands on the top of a building. They go in for a backlit kiss. Kei wonders what Yamaguchi is doing at the moment.

_________

 

Kei enters the club room late one afternoon after most everybody has filed down the stairs and into the gym. After two exams, volleyball practice is the very last place he wants to be. He drags his feet regretfully up the metal stairs. The sight of a shock of orange hair clasped between hands stops him in the doorway.

Hinata stands and spins around, wiping his jacket sleeve over his face. Tears have left red trails down his pale cheeks. Kei feels instantly stuck. His fingers twitch around the strap of his bag. Hinata’s watery eyes shine in the ray of yellow sunlight that peeks through the open door. Kei steps out of the way and it clicks shut. Florescent lights hum intrusively in the silence.

“Hey,” Kei says unsurely.

“Stingyshima,” Hinata gurgles.

Kei shifts his weight to his other foot. “Want me to get Yamaguchi?”

Hinata crumples back to the floor and again hides his wet face in his hands.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Kei sighs, but the sound of it is drowned out by the thwap his volleyball bag makes when he drops it to the floor. He takes a seat next to Hinata and pulls his knees to his chest. His arms rest around them and he wrings his hands together between his knees out of habit. At his side, Hinata sniffles.

“Yushin pisses me off.”

“Me too,” Kei agrees.

Shoes squeak on the tile floor as Hinata shuffles closer to Kei. His temple comes to rest against Kei’s shoulder. Kei sighs again and shifts down to make it easier for him. He’s never seen Hinata upset like this. In fact, he hasn’t ever seen him upset over something irrelevant to volleyball. Kei didn’t think he had it in him.

“I like him so much, Tsukishima,” Hinata warbles, and Kei’d have to be an idiot not to realize that the redhead no longer speaks of Yushin.

“I know.”

“He likes me too, I think.”

“I know.”

“So then why am I crying?” Hinata asks.

He pulls back to watch Kei with wide brown eyes. His gaze is open and honest and it makes Kei want to hide his face. He tries his hardest to think of something, anything to say. Is it his place to speak at all? Kei won’t even let himself feel his own feelings. He just stubbornly pushes them down. Can Hinata not do the same? When Kei doesn’t say anything, Hinata flops his head back onto his shoulder.

“I wonder if I would still feel this way if I hadn’t kissed him,” Hinata mutters, but his words sound like someone else’s.

“Don’t wonder about that,” Kei responds flatly. “You’ll never know.”

“I guess so.”

Kei grimaces in disgust when Hinata wipes his nose with his sleeve.

“Why’d it have to be him?” Hinata asks.

“I’m sure a lot of people wonder that about who they love.”

“Love?” Hinata reiterates, twisting his neck to gape at Kei.

“Or, you know, whatever,” Kei backtracks.

“Oh. Yeah, maybe they do.”

“Besides, it’s not like you’d rather it be someone else.”

“How do you know?” replies Hinata childishly.

“Because I’m not blind. Or stupid.”

They sit like that for another minute, Hinata’s head heavy against Kei’s shoulder. The backs of his thighs are going numb against the cool tile underneath him. There isn’t a doubt in Kei’s mind that, like Hinata about Kageyama, Yamaguchi must wonder why it had to be him. He can think of dozens of others who should mean more to Yamaguchi than Kei does, though the thought of that ever coming to pass does his head in. The silence expands uncomfortably and Kei’s relieved when Hinata speaks up again.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I know this kind of stuff weirds you out.”

“What stuff?”

“Y’know, like, actual human feelings.”

“Shut up,” Kei says with no malice. Hinata vibrates a laugh against his shoulder before sniffling a final time.

“Yamaguchi was right,” he mutters. “You’re not terrible to talk to about stuff.”

“Don’t make it a habit.”

“Jerk,” Hinata replies gently.

Sunlight pervades the room once more when the club room door is swung open.

“Oi, Hin—What the hell?” Kageyama barks upon seeing them.

“Chill out, Bakageyama,” snaps Hinata before lazily standing up. “We’re coming.”

“What was that, dumbass?”

“Nothing,” Hinata insists as he closes the door behind them.

Notes:

check out these two drawings made for this chapter, omg, i'm dying. so cute. i love everyone.

Chapter 8: to each his own

“That was a dick move, what you did to Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima says. Kei shifts in the uncomfortable chair as much as he can.

“What?” he breathes.

“Man, are you serious?” Tsukishima asks. He turns and speaks into the air at his left as if there’s an audience just beyond Kei’s view, “Is he serious right now?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh. You didn’t mean to. Well I guess that’s settled, then,” quips the looming figure, lifting a hand to casually inspect his fingernails. Kei flinches when he slams his palm down on an invisible surface between them. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

“I know,” Kei snarls.

“But more importantly,” Tsukishima continues, “he’s got it bad. Christ! You finally throw the guy a bone and let him chase it…”

A clock ticks somewhere beyond the shadows.

“…only for him to turn around and watch you move it out from behind your back.”

“Metaphors,” Kei mumbles drunkenly.

“Yep,” Tsukishima answers, pointing a long, pale finger to his temple. “You’ve got tons of ‘em in here.”

Kei squirms. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“I think there are a lot of things you don’t know.”

A pause. The unseen clock ticks again. Kei stands up from the chair, his shackles having disappeared.

“Now, why would we do that to him? He’s perfect.” Tsukishima drones.

“He’s not perfect.”

“Oh?”

“No,” Kei answers, “not even close.”

Tsukishima stares at him blankly. Kei starts when he throws his head back in a sudden fit of laughter. Tsukishima grabs at his sides in emphasis before regaining himself. He reaches to his shadowy face to wipe away a nonexistent tear. Watching him, Kei is struck with a fear so jolting it might as well be an electric shock.

“But he’s a lot closer than us, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously, can you just think about Tadashi for like, one second?”

“I—”

Tsukishima’s hand slams down once again and Kei takes a step back.

“No, idiot, not about the kiss. And not about his body when you watch him during practice or in the club room or when you’re doing homework or whatever. Not about how he’s nicer to strangers than you’ve ever been to your closest friends. Not about his hobbies or his habits or his goddamn freckles.”

Kei parrots dumbly, “Freckles?”

“Not quite the Tadashi ‘F’-word I want you to think about right now.”

Kei furrows his brow and sits back down in the chair he’s been provided. The shackles return.

“And no,” Tsukishima screeches, “not that one either!”

“Tell me, damn it,” growls Kei.

“If I know it, aren’t you supposed to, damn it?” Tsukishima mocks, eyes twinkling.

Kei sucks in a breath. “…Feelings?” he exhales.

“Bingo!” cheers Tsukishima. “Feelings. Okay, so, imagine you—we—whatever—didn’t have this weird friends-only-or-my-life-is-over complex—”

“It’s not a complex—”

“Don’t interrupt. Imagine we were, for once, freed from our habit of overthinking and wanted more than anything to be with Tadashi. And we could be.”

Kei would scrub his hands over his face in frustration if they weren’t pinned down. Instead, he lets out a pained moan. Tsukishima points a powerful finger at him.

“I said don’t interrupt. God, what is this, rocket science? So anyway, imagine instead he was the one who decided the two of you—us—could only be friends. Strictly friends, okay.”

“I don’t want to imagine that.”

Tsukishima blinks at him owlishly. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t,” Kei lies.

“Well, fuck off for a minute. I’m running this show. Now imagine it. You, after an embarrassing confession marathon about what parts of each other you get off to, miraculously gain some courage and go in and kiss him. He lets you. He’s totally into it. He’s so into it, Kei. You can tell.”

“Mnh,” Kei grunts unintelligibly.

Tsukishima continues with wild eyes, “He’s responding in every way you hoped he would. And then your hand’s on his dick. Well, over a couple layers of fabric, but the intent’s still there.”

Kei starts to get restless. “And then?” he prompts.

“‘And then’?” Tsukishima repeats, raising an eyebrow. “You already know what happens then. He pulls away like you’re carrying a deadly virus. Nearly knocks himself out on your headboard. Tells you he let you take that too far and then leaves to jack off in your bathroom; that’s right, he won’t even let you do that part for him.”

“Because if I—”

“Shut up. I’m not done.”

“Okay,” Kei responds, drained.

“He comes back and sits on your bed and tells you that the two of you are only friends. Nothing more.”

“Nothing less, either,” Kei tries.

“What?” Tsukishima snickers. “Is that supposed to make you feel better?”

“I know how much Yamaguchi values our friendship.”

Tsukishima hums in agreement. “How much we do, too.”

“And if I let that change then we won’t ever be the same again. That’s why I can’t fuck it up!” Kei roars, lurching forward in the chair.

“You don’t have to scream at me. Besides, we’re not done imagining.”

“Please…”

“One more thing,” Tsukishima promises. His voice lowers as he continues, “How would you feel if he did all that to you? It’s called empathy. Get a fucking clue. Now answer me.”

It takes Kei a minute to collect his bearings. “I guess I would be devastated,” he mutters.

“You guess? We guess?”

“I would be crushed. We would be crushed,” Kei answers weakly. “We’d be devastated.”

Tsukishima grins wickedly. Bright white teeth shimmer even in the absence of light.

“Exactly,” he drawls.

Kei wakes up sweating.

_________

 

 Throughout the next week, the dream sticks to his conscious mind like flypaper.

“You look paler than usual,” Hinata notes before he bites into a rice ball.

“If possible.”

“Shut up.”

Hinata insists through his food, “No, Kageyama’s right.”

“I’m fine. I look the same as always. Where’s Yamaguchi?”

“He was here when I got here. He said he’d be right back,” Kageyama tells Kei, “I figured he went to get you.”

Kei hums in response and eyes Yamaguchi’s bento where it’s been abandoned on the table next to him. The chatter of nearby students in the courtyard is loud in his ears. Yushin waves at Kageyama from across the field and Hinata rolls his eyes. Kageyama gives a tentative wave back.

“Keep it in your pants, Kageyama-kun,” Hinata huffs. Kei would snicker if he had the energy.

“What?” Kageyama grunts.

“I said ‘keep an eye on those plants, Kageyama-kun’.”

“What plants?”

“You two are morons,” Kei says through a yawn.

Hinata surveys the area and frowns. “Lunch is almost over. Should we go find Yama?”

Kei stands from the table. “I’ll go.”

“Get me some milk,” Kageyama calls after him.

“Hell no,” Kei calls back.

He checks their empty classroom before walking back outside. He squints at the sunlight that glares through his lenses. As far as Kei’s aware, Yamaguchi didn’t have anything to do during lunch today. Yamaguchi tells him these things. Maybe he’s getting a confession, Kei thinks idly as he rounds the corner to the volleyball gym, maybe that blonde girl finally worked up the nerve.

Kei halts when he nearly trips over him. Yamaguchi sits on the ground against the wall of the gym, knees pulled up to his chest and head buried in his arms. Kei frets instantly. He voices his first thought.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Yamaguchi whips his head up and blinks at Kei. His eyes are glassy. Kei stands over him, thinking that he should pull Yamaguchi up or sit down with him. He does neither.

“No?” Yamaguchi answers bemusedly.

“Good.”

Yamaguchi says nothing.

“Lunch is almost over,” Kei tells him.

“I know. Sorry.”

Kei stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Yamaguchi, I need to say something.”

Yamaguchi almost looks fearful as he stares up at him. Kei’s heart thrums in his chest and he kneels so he no longer looms over the other teen. Caramel eyes widen even in the harsh sunlight.

“No,” Yamaguchi suddenly whines, shaking his head.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s going to be about that one night, isn’t it?”

A fire crackles to life in Kei’s chest.

“Yes,” he answers hesitantly.

“You don’t have to say any—”

“Tadashi. I’m sorry.”

Yamaguchi blinks his watery eyes, unsure of what to do with the blanket apology. Is this is the first time I’ve ever done this? Kei wonders instantly. Slowly, Yamaguchi’s head begins to nod. Kei has a selfish, hopeful thought about his most recent dream finally leaving him be. He can't seem to shake it. He remembers it down to the last haunting detail, as if it were a memory rather than a dream. But perhaps his curt apology is not enough. Maybe the guilt will never subside and Kei needs to prepare himself for that.

He probably should say more, but he can’t string the appropriate words together, much less voice them once he’s done so. His knees start to ache from his crouched position and he shuffles around to sit against the wall next to Yamaguchi. Kei nudges his shoulder against Yamaguchi’s to regain his attention.

“Why are you crying?” he asks softly.

Yamaguchi silently worries his bottom lip.

Kei tries again, “What’re you doing back here?”

Yamaguchi drags his heels across the dirt so his legs lie straight out in front of him. On his lap is something Kei recognizes but doesn’t want to. He wrinkles his nose at the heart-shaped confectionary box. Yamaguchi picks it up and turns it in his freckled hands.

“This girl confessed to me,” he says.

Kei furrows his brow. “You’re crying because you got a confession?”

“I guess so,” Yamaguchi admits. “I guess I don’t really know why I got upset.”

“Unless she punched you in the gut afterward, I don’t either.”

A soft chuckle escapes Yamaguchi’s mouth and Kei feels like he can finally breathe at the sound of it. Yamaguchi idly fingers the beautiful silver bow that adorns the treat box. Kei leans over to nudge their shoulders together again. Yamaguchi tugs at the ribbon and the bow falls gracefully apart.

“Want one, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks of the chocolates inside.

Kei doesn't, really.

“Okay.”

He delicately plucks one of the candies—their shape matches that of the box in which they reside—and places it in Kei’s awaiting palm. Faintly, Kei hears familiar, bickering voices. He wills the other second-years to stay away for just another minute; this moment with Yamaguchi feels too precious to crack just yet.

Kei holds in a sigh as Hinata rounds the corner with Kageyama close at his back. He never has any luck. Their shadows cast over the grass next to where he and Yamaguchi sit. Kei glares at them and bites into the candy.

“Here they are!” Hinata crows.

“Here we are,” Yamaguchi responds pleasantly.

“Hey,” says Kageyama. “We brought your lunch.” Yamaguchi’s bento dangles from the setter’s fingers.

“Thanks, Kageyama.”

“Chocolate?” Hinata squawks when he sees the box in Yamaguchi’s hand.

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes before handing one out to each of them. Kageyama looks gratefully down at the treat in his fingers and Hinata chews his up in one go. Like usual, the redheads speaks with his mouth still full.

“I hope you didn’t make her cry when you brutally shot her down, Tsukishima.”

“It wasn’t me. Yamaguchi got the confession.”

“Huh?” Kageyama grunts.

Hinata licks the melted chocolate from his fingers and translates, “What’d you say, Yamaguchi?”

Kei hadn’t even thought to ask. He just stupidly assumed he knew the answer.

“I think we’re going to the movies on Sunday,” Yamaguchi says shyly. He ducks his head to rub the back of his neck with his free hand.

Hinata shoots Kei a quick glance that Yamaguchi doesn’t notice. Kei hardly notices it himself; he feels like he’s been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool. He feels light, like he’s floating, before he feels like he’s been crushed under the weight of something he can’t name. He idly lifts his hand to check if his glasses have slid from his face.

“You didn’t say that before,” Kei breathes.

“I just didn’t know if you’d care, Tsukki.”

Kei turns away from him. What do I do to make Yamaguchi think I don’t care to know these things? he wonders with an ache in his chest. It hurts like he’s just done a lap of diving drills.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks plainly.

Kageyama answers, “Because you don’t care about girls.”

“And you do?” snaps Kei, feeling suddenly vicious.

“I didn’t say that. I was just saying that you don’t.”

“Would you shut up, King? You don’t know what you’re talking about. As usual.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi pleads. Kei meets his eye and Yamaguchi nearly flinches.

“What?”

“Relax. I should’ve said something earlier, okay?”

“I guess,” Kei mutters.

Yamaguchi gives his shoulder a light touch and grins at him reassuringly. It does nothing to lighten his mood. He feels like he’s been boxed in on all sides. He feels constricted, like someone has bound his arms and legs. The ache in his chest drums on.

Across from them, Hinata leans over on the grass and loops his arm through Kageyama’s.

“I love Yamaguchi,” he says matter-of-factly, “he’s like the Tsukishima-whisperer.”

 Kei has no right to be upset with Yamaguchi, for this or for anything. If he was stupid and impulsive enough, he could lean over right now and kiss Yamaguchi’s freckles—the ones on his shoulders, his cheeks, his elbows and twice for the ones on his knees because those are Kei’s favorites—and Yamaguchi’s date on Sunday would be forgotten by both of them. He runs the scenario through his head as he glares at the dirt Kageyama absently scuffs up with his shoe.

Kei would kiss and kiss and kiss Yamaguchi and they wouldn’t even hear Hinata’s high-pitched reaction over their pounding heartbeats. Kei wouldn’t need to say anything, would he? The thought of putting what he has inside his head into words is daunting. Surely, he would fail at this execution. He is not good with words. After seventeen years, he has accepted this. But maybe for Yamaguchi he would try to be.

He read something some time ago about how people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in. He can think of an array of reasons why he loves Yamaguchi. He can’t fathom a single one of those admirable traits turning sour with time. Kei, however, has no fucking clue what Yamaguchi possibly likes so much about him. He never really has. He’s always just accepted it without question, as if he deserves it.

How arrogant, Kei thinks bitterly of himself.

If he can’t think of any of his own traits that make him worthy of Yamaguchi now, how bad would it be in the future when Yamaguchi would fall out of love with him? His honesty will turn brutal, cutting (is it not already this way?). His maturity will age him supremely. His silence will translate to dispassion.

And Yamaguchi will not deserve this.

Kei’s hands clasp together tightly in his lap and for the first time in his life, he honestly wishes he was someone else—someone better in all senses of the word. He watches his knuckles go white.

“Tsukki? Tsukki, the bell.”

Kei pulls himself together and stares ahead to notice Hinata and Kageyama have already gone. Yamaguchi stands over him with his head cocked, backlit by the sun. Kei stares in awe at the spectacle for a minute before he reluctantly stands up.

Yamaguchi chats at his side as the two of them walk to class. Kei’s not listening, preoccupied once again by his quest to identify his own good traits. It’s difficult to analyze oneself, Kei knows, but should it be this difficult? He wracks his brain throughout his next lesson. He’s even prepared to write a list, GOOD TRAITS written neatly at the top of a crisp white page. He poses his pencil over the first line. He gently bites his lip in concentration.

The paper is still blank by the time the school day ends.

_________

 

 Kei slips his headphones on on the walk home that evening. He hardly minds Hinata and Kageyama’s banter anymore, even finds it entertaining some of the time (something he has told only Yamaguchi in confidence), but this evening it grates on his ears. His hand clenches and unclenches absently around the strap of his volleyball bag. In his peripherals, he sees the setter depart from the group with a wave sometime after they pass Sakanoshita. Kei’s playlist ends but he makes no move to select another. He hears Yamaguchi’s muffled voice in the absence of music from where he and Hinata walk a few paces behind him.

“Shouyou, can I ask you something?”

He sounds bashful and Kei’s stomach flutters.

“Sure, of course.”

“It’s kind of awkward, I think.”

Kei continues to stare rigidly ahead. Like the two of you haven’t talked about awkward things before, he thinks.

“Doubt it. What is it?”

“Well.” Yamaguchi pauses. “Hinata, you like girls, don’t you?”

Hinata sounds confused when he responds, “Yeah?”

“But you like boys too, right?” Yamaguchi asks.

Kei raises an eyebrow and wonders why Yamaguchi speaks of this when they both know it to be true. Three pairs of shoes slap the concrete in the short silence before Hinata’s reply.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi parrots thoughtfully.

“Hey, you look pretty worried, Yamaguchi,” Hinata notices and Kei resists the urge to spin around and confirm this claim. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Why’d you ask that, anyway?”

“Because I think I feel the same, y’know, about boys and girls. Like, I feel the same things for them.”

Kei doesn’t have to look at him to know Yamaguchi is rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. His own breath becomes shallow against his will and his face is hot despite the cool night air. Kei pulls his eyebrows together.

He’s not sure why he hasn’t considered this before; the prospect of Yamaguchi being attracted to boys as well as girls. After all, isn’t that obvious at this point? Kei’s never particularly imagined Yamaguchi liked guys in that sense at all. Kei selfishly thought that maybe it was just him that Yamaguchi found himself attracted to. He thought it was a fluke. He thought he was an exception.

How ridiculous of Kei to think that he was special.

Kei thought it was just him, that fact that he was Yamaguchi’s Tsukki, that drew Yamaguchi to him—not anything having to do with his gender. He feels blindsided and can’t pinpoint why. Nonsensical betrayal nips at his mind. Is Yamaguchi also attracted to other boys? Boys in their class, maybe? Does he ever, at night, think about any of the others in Karasuno’s volleyball club? Does he find any of them handsome? Kei can’t stand the thought. He only realizes he’s clenching his teeth when they start to ache. Relaxing his jaw, he strains to continue to hear Yamaguchi and Hinata’s hushed conversation.

He tells himself he would not eavesdrop if it were not absolutely essential.

“Well, yeah!” Hinata chirps. “I kind of figured.”

“Is that so?”

“From what you’ve told me, I mean.”

Kei at once needs to know every single conversation Yamaguchi and Hinata have ever had in his absence.

“Ah. Hinata?”

“What?”

“Is—is that normal?” Yamaguchi asks hesitantly.

“Is what normal?”

“Liking both.”

Hinata asks, “Both boys and girls?”

“Yeah…”

There’s a sound of shuffling fabric; Hinata’s shrugging.

“I dunno. Maybe Tsukishima does. He’s smart.”

Yamaguchi puffs a breathy laugh. “Tsukki knows lots of things, but probably not about this.”

Kei feels slightly offended even if Yamaguchi is undoubtedly correct with his assumption.

“Oh,” Hinata says, deflating. “Well, hey, Yama?”

“Hm?”

“If it wasn’t normal, what’re the odds that both you and me would feel the same way?” Hinata asks with conviction.

If Kei knows Yamaguchi as well as he thinks he does, after that statement, Yamaguchi beams.

“That’s a good point.”

“You think so?”

“I think so. Y’know, Hinata, you’re a really good friend.”

Kei only pulls his headphones down around his neck minutes later when Hinata says goodbye and ducks off the road. His bicycle glints a farewell under the streetlights. Kei starts walking again when Yamaguchi catches up to him. They immediately fall into step with one another, easily done after years and years of practice.

Kei thinks of his blank list that seemingly burns a hole through his bag and into the skin of his back. Surely Yamaguchi could find loads of boys whose lists of good traits could fill entire notebooks. He could also find tons of girls who could undoubtedly satisfy this criteria as well. Yamaguchi has so many options, and Kei suddenly feels like an afterthought.

Chapter 9: the tightrope

Notes:

this is probably my favorite chapter.

comments and kudos are so so so appreciated, you guys are so good to me!!

“Give those back.”

“How do I look?”

Kei sighs, “I don’t know, idiot. I can’t see.”

“Not bad,” comments Kageyama. “But kind of nerdy.”

“That’s not inherently bad, though,” adds Yamaguchi.

“It would imply that you at least have a brain, which is more than we can conclude right now.”

“For every rude comment you make, we’re going to make you race one lap without your glasses,” Hinata promises cheerfully.

“We’d be here forever,” Kageyama huffs.

“I’d still win. Now give them back.”

“It’s true,” Yamaguchi agrees and thoughtfully taps his controller on his freckled knee. “Tsukki would probably still win.”

“Yamaguchi, whose side are you on?!”

“Good idea, Hinata. Let’s play teams,” says Kageyama.

Rain patters peacefully against the windows of the Yamaguchi household. It’s mere background noise to the enthusiastic game soundtrack and Hinata’s wailing every time Kei crashes into his player or someone throws a red shell his way. Hinata’s boundless enthusiasm leaks into every aspect of his life, and this includes video games. Kei can’t imagine being like that. He exhausts himself just pondering on it.

“I’m not clicking start until I get my glasses back.”

“Fine!” Hinata concedes. “But just because I’m sure I’ll win this time.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Kei replies.

“Wait, I want to try them on.”

“Yamaguchi,” Kei all but whines. He’s starting to get a headache.

“Just for a second!” The Yamaguchi-shaped blur slips Kei’s glasses on and turns to Hinata. “Do I look like Tsukki?”

“Way too happy,” Kageyama informs him.

“You look way better than Tsukishima.”

“Asshole,” Kei replies flatly, although he has no doubt Hinata’s right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Shouyou, take a picture of us so Tsukki can see!”

“No,” Kei groans.

“Please, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi begs. “We never take pictures together.”

“Hinata is constantly taking photos of the two of us,” Kageyama complains.

Hinata blanches. “It’s not constant!”

Kageyama’s eyebrow rises until half of it disappears under his dark bangs.

“Is it not?”

“No! It’s only when you’re not looking like you want to strangle me,” Hinata insists and pulls out his phone. He scrolls furiously through it and continues, “Like when Natsu’s telling you about her day at school, or after my mom says you can stay over for dinner. I have to collect those rare, peaceful moments so I can defend you when people try to tell me you only ever look pissed off!”

Kageyama cocks his head. “Who says that?”

“Me,” Kei answers.

“Everyone,” Yamaguchi supplements helpfully and pushes Kei’s glasses further up his nose, though they need no adjusting.

“I was born with this face!”

“I didn’t mean anything by it! It’s a nice face!” Hinata shouts.

Kageyama casually checks his nails and replies, “Not as nice as yours.”

“K-Kageyama!”

Kei sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hinata, if you’re going to take a picture, do it already.”

“Really?” Yamaguchi chirps. “Hurry up, Shouyou, before he changes his mind.”

Yamaguchi hardly has to move at all to plaster himself against Kei’s side. Hinata counts down before snapping the picture and Kei glances somewhere to the side. Yamaguchi’s impossibly close, their cheeks practically touching. Perhaps we should take photos together more often, Kei thinks, if it makes him happy like this.

“Thanks, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi beams like Kei’s done him a favor. “Now hold still.”

He slips the glasses from his face and softly onto Kei’s. He's so gentle and careful that Kei nearly blushes. Finally, Yamaguchi’s splatter of freckles—and less importantly to Kei, everything else around the two of them—comes back into focus. He has to rip his eyes off of Yamaguchi’s unabashedly radiant face.

“I love it,” Yamaguchi says upon seeing the picture.

Kei struggles only slightly for his words. “You look…”

Cute. Great. Adorable. Really, really cute.

“…Not like me.”

Kageyama smirks. “I think that’s a compliment, Yamaguchi.”

Hinata chuckles and taps mercilessly at his phone.

“Don’t send it to anybody,” Kei orders.

Some selfish part of him (which is apparently a big part of him, he’s learning) wants to keep the photo only to himself and Yamaguchi. Even the fact that Hinata has seen it seems unfair and intrusive.

“Chill, Tsukishima. I’m just sending it to Yamaguchi.”

“Thanks!” Yamaguchi exclaims.

“And Kenma.”

Kei groans, “Not Kozume-san.”

Hinata is instantly offended and pulls his phone to his chest. “What’s it matter?”

“If Kozume sees it, Kuroo-san sees it,” Kei sighs, “and then Bokuto-san sees it and then I get fifty texts in a row from the two of them, whose numbers I don’t even have saved.”

Hinata cackles and doubles over to happily slap at the floor with his hands.

“You just sealed your own fate, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi tells him sympathetically.

________

 
It’s not yet midnight when Kageyama and Hinata pass out on Yamaguchi’s living room floor, controllers forgotten between them. Yamaguchi’s clicked off the television and the rain, increasing in ferocity with every hour, taps heavily at the windows in the near silence. Kageyama is the worst snorer Kei has ever met. He’ll take Yamaguchi’s open-mouthed drooling over Kageyama’s snoring any day, but he’s biased. The pair lie on top of a blanket, not touching, but rather with their heads and toes curled in toward one another. Kei glances at the clock on the wall.

“Lame,” he says.

“They look like parentheses,” notes Yamaguchi.

“I guess their constant losses really wore them out.”

Yamaguchi snickers. “Want to go in my room?”

Kei does. Kei wants to lay on Yamaguchi’s bed with him. He wants to discard his sweatshirt and get under the covers and let Yamaguchi warm him up in the most innocent way. He wants to watch nature documentaries on Yamaguchi’s ten year old laptop and complement them with other relevant facts he knows so he can watch Yamaguchi’s eyes shine with honest fascination in the dim light.

“Fine.”

Ten minutes later and they find themselves in the exact same place they were on the night they kissed each other. Kei realizes this because there is not a single time in the last month he has been in Yamaguchi’s room that he hasn’t thought about it. It must be the same for him, right? Kei wonders desperately.

Kei’s not sure. He wants so badly to know what Yamaguchi’s thinking but doesn’t know if he could handle the answers. It’s difficult enough to keep his heartbeat quiet with Yamaguchi at his side, their thighs pressed together under the thick comforter of the freckled teen’s bed. Kei identifies the feeling immediately: there is something they aren’t doing that they could be. It hangs in the air around them like humidity after late summer rainfall.

“You alright, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks and turns toward him.

His hot, slow breaths warm Kei’s cheek. He smells of strawberries from the ice cream the four second-years had eaten earlier in the evening. On the laptop screen, five penguins huddle together for warmth. It’s a documentary about the Arctic they’ve watched together one hundred times.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you cold? Probably not as cold as those guys, though.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t wait for his answer and instead pulls the comforter further so it’s nearly up to their shoulders. He pulls his knees in and pivots so they rest on Kei’s thigh. Yamaguchi tilts his head so it rests on Kei’s shoulder and breathes a dramatic sigh, finally content. A hurricane of butterflies twirls from Kei’s stomach to his chest. Yamaguchi stills for a few moments like he’s waiting for Kei to shove him off.

One of the penguins departs from the group. It promptly slips on the ice and struggles to rise from its stomach. The other penguins watch it, cawing shrilly. Kei’s eyes flicker down to glance at Yamaguchi. It’d be criminally easy for Kei to lean down and press his cheek to his soft, brown hair.

“You know you’re going to fall asleep,” Kei grumbles.

“I’ll try not to, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi replies sleepily.

“Sure.”

“I really will.”

The penguins slide one-by-one through a hole in the ice into the aqua blue sea.

“‘The penguins’ prey is easily found within sixty feet of the ocean’s surface, so they have no need to dive into deeper waters to locate sustenance,’” Kei drones, easily matching the narrator.

Yamaguchi continues, “‘Unfortunately for the penguins, there are other predators who are well aware of this hunting tendency.’”

“Here comes the best part.”

“I hate it, Tsukki. I can’t look,” Yamaguchi whines and stuffs his face into Kei’s armpit. He says into the fabric of Kei’s shirt, “Hey, Tsukki?”

Kei doesn’t take his eyes off the computer screen when he responds, “What?”

“I’m nervous.”

“We have a couple more days until our next match.”

“Not that. I’m ready for that. I meant for tomorrow.”

“Oh.” He swallows hard. “Why?”

“I’ve never been on a date before.”

So it is a date. His head feels fuzzy like the static between radio stations. A leopard seal tears through the icy water and effortlessly catches the smallest penguin in its jaws. The others swim frenetically back to the surface and Kei looks away.

“Don’t.”

“Huh?” Yamaguchi moves back to look up at him through his eyelashes.

Damn it, thinks Kei.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“Kei, do you think I should go out with her?”

Kei glances at him sharply out of the corner of his eye.

“If it will make you happy,” he answers honestly.

“Okay then,” Yamaguchi drawls, “I will, I guess.”

He speaks disapprovingly like Kei has given the wrong answer and Kei wants to shake him by the shoulders and yell at Yamaguchi that he already knows this. It’s better this way, we’re better off this way in the long run, Kei’s repeats to himself in a rehearsed loop (Kei never, ever thinks in short-terms), because if I don’t have you, I can’t lose you. He's lost track of how many times he's thought this exact phrase. It's practically burned into his brain by now (or if not, it certainly stings similarly to a burn).

“I’m nervous,” Yamaguchi says again.

“It will be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re you.”

“Is it tiring,” Yamaguchi asks ironically through a yawn, “being so vague and cryptic all the time?”

Kei puffs a laugh and looks amusedly down at him. A smile pries at his lips.

“You’re kind of an ass.”

“You’re an ass,” Yamaguchi counters happily. “Now tell me what that means.”

Kei’s pale hands find each other in his lap and he twists and untwists his fingers together.

“It just means that it’s easy to have a nice time when it’s with you, okay?”

“It is? You think so?”

Kei blinks at him and looks back to the documentary. “Of course I do. ‘Unlike most birds, penguins do not have hollow bones. This counteracts the penguins natural buoyancy and makes them quick and able swimmers.’”

“‘In fact, penguins can swim up to fifteen miles per hour,’” the two teenagers narrate in unison.

_______

 
Mornings pass in half-time at Yamaguchi’s house. They always have. The sun creeps slowly up the sky and Kei watches its progress because he is always, always first to wake up. Yamaguchi could probably sleep for three days straight if his schedule permitted it. Pale yellow light slides easily into the room through the windowpane and Kei eyes the forgotten futon. He’d accidentally fallen asleep in Yamaguchi’s bed, and now he has to reap the consequences. They are way too old for this.

Like the futon, Yamaguchi’s pillow has been similarly abandoned in favor of Kei’s stomach. How Yamaguchi constantly manages to sleep so improperly, Kei has never known. What he does know is that Yamaguchi’s drool is currently turning a growing spot on Kei’s azure t-shirt a dark navy, and he doesn’t have the heart to shove him off. He looks too comfortable, eyelashes fanned over bronze cheeks and arms crossed loosely over his slight chest. Against his better judgement—a reoccurring theme in his life as of late, Kei acknowledges regrettably—Kei lets him be.

He’s careful as he reaches for his glasses and the only book on the table by Yamaguchi’s bed. The Official Hoenn Pokédex, the cover page reads. Kei gives an embarrassingly fond chuckle. He lets it fall open delicately on the bed next to him.

“It’s cool, right?” Yamaguchi mumbles a handful of minutes later.

Kei hums. “How often must you need to reference this for it to reside on your bedside table?”

“More often than you’d think.”

“I honestly doubt that, Tadashi.”

“It’s my favorite region.”

“I’m aware.”

Yamaguchi rolls onto his stomach and rumbles a laugh into Kei’s sensitive skin. Kei turns back to the book in an attempt to hide the blush that blooms over his face. It’s too early in the day for this, Kei thinks grumpily.

“This one reminds me of you.” Kei angles the book so Yamaguchi can see.

“Hm? Who?”

“This guy.”

“Oh, Swablu,” Yamaguchi clarifies. “Why’s that, Tsukki?”

“Not sure. But look at the things on its head.”

Yamaguchi grins and says, “I’ll accept that. Swablus are totally neat.”

“Are they?” Kei asks conversationally.

Yamaguchi reaches up without looking and points to a blurb at the bottom of the page.

“‘For some reason, it likes to land on people’s heads softly and act like it’s a hat,’” Kei reads aloud.

“So cute,” Yamaguchi insists around a yawn. He turns onto his side, ear pressed to Kei’s stomach, and closes his eyes like he’s ready to go right back to sleep. The fondness Kei feels at the sight exhausts him.

Belatedly, Kei replies, “I suppose so.”

“What’s this?” barks Kageyama, voice agonizingly loud in the slow midmorning atmosphere. He looms in the doorway of Yamaguchi’s bedroom and levels Kei with a typical blank stare. The setter drones, “So he can do that, but you won’t even accept my high-fives?”

The comforter slips off the bed and onto the ground with a soft sound when Yamaguchi scrambles up to sit on his knees. The drool spot on Kei’s shirt is suddenly cool and sticks uncomfortably to his skin.

“Your high-fives are amateur at best,” Kei responds derisively without looking up.

“I’m still learning.”

Hinata pokes his head out from behind Kageyama. “Hey! Like you’re one to talk, Tsukishima.”

Kei gives him that one. The duo amble back down the hallway (what did they come in here for, anyway?) and Yamaguchi brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck—his nervous tick. Kei speaks up before he has a chance to.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“It’s fine, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi answers quickly.

“No. I shouldn’t have.”

Who am I kidding, Kei wonders. He’s so full of shit his eyes are brown. He wants nothing more than to yank Yamaguchi’s sleeve until Kei is once again his personal pillow and stay like that until the sun goes back down. Kei steels himself, unwilling to reply.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Yamaguchi says, voice dripping with confusion.

Kei stares at his pale hands that fiddle with one another in his lap.

“Yes, I do.”

“Like what?”

He fixes Yamaguchi with an icy gaze.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Tsukki.”

“Stop saying that,” Kei orders.

“But you don’t. I…I like you in my bed.”

Kei blanches. His hands go still in his lap. He thinks absently on how lucky he—or Yamaguchi, for that matter—was not to have woken up hard, especially with Yamaguchi so comfortable and clingy this morning. Kei wonders how much clingier Yamaguchi could have gotten. The passing thought sends a delicious swoop of heat through his lower abdomen. Now? Kei thinks irritably.

“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like—that sounds so—I just meant that, that maybe—uh,” Yamaguchi stutters, tan face tattooed with bright red.

“Yamaguchi,” he interjects. He has to take a deep breath before stating, “We probably shouldn’t sleep in the same bed anymore. It’s not what friends do. Especially at seventeen.”

His words come out disturbingly robotic. Someone has pushed his play button and Kei now speaks forced statements on autopilot. And really, how would Kei know, anyway? Yamaguchi’s the only friend he’s ever had.

Kei ducks his head and buries it in his cold hands. He can’t watch all he wants unfolding in front of him without being able to reach out and take hold of it. He could have pushed Yamaguchi off of him when he’d woken up if he’d truly wanted to—Yamaguchi knows this, he’s not stupid, Kei sees the question twirling in his sharp eyes—but Kei didn’t.

“But Hinata and Kag—”

Kei mumbles into his hands, “They aren’t friends.”

“But they’re not together,” Yamaguchi tries desperately.

“They’ve kissed.”

“So have we, Kei,” he retorts. It sounds like a plea.

Yamaguchi is pulling out all the stops.

It’s a last ditch effort. He wants Kei to give in. Desperation oozes from the both of them; Kei can practically see it pooling in the space between them on Yamaguchi’s bed. It stains his sheets and drips from the mattress and onto the floor, following the grain of the wood.

Kei lifts his head and stares Yamaguchi down with wide eyes. It is the one time Kei does not appreciate Yamaguchi’s newfound confidence, but instead abhors it. The statement rips the breath from both teenagers. It sends shivers up two spines. Kei wills his hands not to shake as he closes the book on the bed next to him and returns it to Yamaguchi’s nightstand.

“I have told you,” Kei says slowly, “we are f—”

“Friends,” Yamaguchi finishes dismissively and stands from his bed. “Friends, yeah, Tsukki. That’s what you said. Just friends.”

His alien tone sets Kei on edge. He struggles to voice the only thing that comes to mind.

“I’m sorry, Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes soften for a mere second before sharpening again. He sits very close to Kei on the bed, letting his legs hang over its side. He straightens his quivering fingers and lightly taps his fingertips together, as if to a slow tune in his head. Kei looks past them to stare at the freckles that cover Yamaguchi’s scuffed knees. He wants to count them.

Yamaguchi inquires softly, “Friends? That’s what you want?”

“It’s just how it has to be.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Yamaguchi parrots once more.

He sounds empty, like Kei’s words have hollowed him out. Kei can relate.

Yamaguchi continues, “If that’s your choice…”

The statement bears an air of finality that makes Kei’s chest clench uncomfortably. Yamaguchi has plucked at his taut heartstrings so much that they’ve snapped. Have they, Kei wonders as he watches Yamaguchi stand from the bed, also left your fingertips bruised and sore?

“Hey, Yama!” Hinata shouts as he slides into the doorway on socked feet.

The tightrope he and Yamaguchi walk snaps at the intrusion. They fall.

“What, Shouyou?”

“Your dad says—woah. Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Yamaguchi answers with artificial casualness.

He’s like a pretty mannequin. Kei could topple him with one finger and he’d break on the hardwood floor.

“My dad says what?”

“He says he’ll drive you to the theater whenever you’re ready.” Hinata eyes Kei suspiciously as he talks.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem! Me and Kageyama are gonna go, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Are you coming, Tsukishima?”

“In a minute,” Kei tells him. “Go without me.”

Instead of leaving, Hinata stays in the doorway. He watches Yamaguchi with big eyes, as if waiting for approval.

“Actually, you should go too, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says as he kneels and rolls out the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulls a pair of jeans from it and throws them next to where Kei still sits on his bed. “I have to get ready to leave.”

At this, Hinata retreats down the hallway. Kei finally stands up and moves to the doorway.

“Alright,” he replies shortly.

“I’ll see you later,” Yamaguchi says with a weak smile.

“See you later.”

Kei walks down the hall, feeling similarly to the way he does after they lose an official match; he could have done better. He could have done more. He could have been a little smarter, a little quicker on his feet. He could have tried even just a smidgen harder. Who knows how different it would’ve made the outcome?

But he is stubborn, and refuses to pull the self-inflicted thorn from his side.

He halts right before the hallway opens up to the living room when he hears his name.

“I dunno. I think Tsukishima really hurt his feelings,” Hinata’s saying in a low voice.

“Yamaguchi’s?” Kageyama asks incredulously.

“Yeah. I don’t know.”

“If it was Yamaguchi then he probably didn’t mean to, right?”

“I don’t know, Tobio.”

“Huh.”

The flash of red irritation he feels for Hinata and Kageyama at the moment is immediately flushed out by heavy waves of blue guilt. By now, he can pinpoint the feeling as soon as it emerges, like an old friend. Giant knots tie in his chest and stomach and he has no idea how to loosen them. His words have thus far refused to do him any good. He feels like every time he opens his mouth, something fucks up. It’s no one’s fault but Kei’s own. 

Kei turns on his heel and heads back to Yamaguchi’s bedroom. Yamaguchi looks up from fastening the top few buttons of his shirt when Kei walks in and makes a beeline straight for him.

“Tsukki—?” he questions, but stops abruptly when Kei stoops slightly and wraps his arms around his middle.

It occurs to Kei that he and Yamaguchi have kissed and yet never hugged. Yamaguchi’s forearms and elbows dig into Kei’s ribcage. His fingers go still on the second button from his collar. Kei cranes his neck to hook his chin behind Yamaguchi’s left shoulder. He has a fleeting thought about the freckles that reside right where his chin presses, under Yamaguchi’s button-down. Kei stutters a slight breath when Yamaguchi lets his forearms slide off Kei’s chest to hang stiffly at his sides. Kei presses his palms flat between Yamaguchi’s pointed shoulder blades. Yamaguchi’s breathing is steady and calm in Kei’s ear.

To say having Yamaguchi’s tall but slight body in his arms and pressed to his chest feels nice would be a gross understatement. Their bodies weren’t even this close when they were kissing. It’s a different kind of intimacy, but Kei tries not to let himself think of it this way. People hug when they are upset. Yamaguchi is not thrilled with him right now, Kei knows, but perhaps this will make him less upset.

This is Kei’s logic, and he has put it into action in regards to Yamaguchi—or anyone who is not an immediate family member, for that matter—for the first time.

And it is nice.

Kei exhales a final breath and moves to pull back. Yamaguchi’s arms finally shoot from his sides and he quickly rests his hands on Kei’s broad shoulders, keeping him in place. Kei stays (of course Kei stays). Yamaguchi turns his head so his ear presses to his collarbone. If he can hear my heart, Kei frets, I am so fucked.

“Friends hug,” Yamaguchi promises with vigor, “don’t even try and tell me that friends don’t hug.”

And then they’re both laughing. It’s slight and soft and a little forced, but it’s still laughter. It breaks up the static of the room and Kei hopes they can both breathe freely again. He takes one more deep breath to test this before the two teenagers disentangle. Kei steps away and adjusts his glasses from where they’ve slipped down his nose. He exhales.

“Have a nice time,” Kei tells him.

“I’ll try, Tsukki.”

“I’ll text you later.”

“Okay, Tsukki.”

“See you, Yamaguchi.”

“Bye, Tsukki.”

Notes:

dudes. check out these two pieces of art made for this chapter. so blessed. so thankful.

Chapter 10: circling the drain

Notes:

title is from mobo's 'cooke'. happy reading!

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

HEYY HEYYY HEYYYY TSUKKI

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

How’s the blocking coming hmmm??

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Bet you still can’t block me!!

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Especially since now I’m playing with college students!! Like ME!

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

MEET ME IN TOKYO FOR A 3 ON 3 EH?!

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Bring Hinata and that one grumpy guy he’s always with

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

No response huh? That scared?

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Nice pic BTW

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

The one of The Boyf in your glasses

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Akaashi never lets me wear anything of his D: D:

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

So what do you say??? You coming to Tokyo??

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

You on your way NOW?

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Don’t text and drive tho!!!!!!!

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

Wait a second, you don’t drive yet

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

So find a ride. Take a train, Walk here, ride a Horse. SPROUT WINGS AND FLY HERE, TSUKKI

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

I owe Kuroo money if you don’t respond

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: HEY

OMG TSUKKI please spare me I am but a poor college student

 

to: [Unknown Number]

subject: Re:HEY

Use the money I’m saving you to buy proper kneepads.

 

from: [Unknown Number]

subject: Re:HEY

???!? WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

________

Kei does not want to meet her.

He does not want to meet the girl who gets to kiss Yamaguchi instead of him. He doesn’t want to hear about her or know what she looks like or the things that she and Yamaguchi have in common. He didn’t even care to know her name, but there was really no way around that one.

“Mamiko told me that people used to think the moon coaxed the music from them,” Yamaguchi says of the grasshopper he cradles gently in his palms.

He and Kei sit under a large tree by the school gates. They’ve got some time to kill before practice. Yamaguchi caught the insect that rested on the tree's thick trunk with almost concerning technique. Kei barely had a chance to sit on the grass under the shade before Yamaguchi was proudly showing it off to him, like the thing was made of pure gold.

Kei hums. “Some people connect their molting phases with the wax and wane of the moon.”

“Is that so, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks and lowers his head to peek into the small gap he makes between index and middle fingers. “If I show you it, could you tell me what molting phase its in?”

“Please don’t bring that any closer to me.”

“You’re just saying that because you wouldn’t know it.”

“Reverse psychology,” Kei notes bemusedly, “nice, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi laughs brightly. He sits up onto his knees and crawls into the dirt near the base of the tree, no doubt dirtying up his black uniform pants. Resting the sides of his palms against the tree trunk, he splays his fingers. The grasshopper leaps from his hands and settles on the peeling bark. Kei watches Yamaguchi watch the insect for another minute before it hops from their view.

“See ya,” Yamaguchi tells it with a little wave.

Yamaguchi catches another grasshopper and a milkweed butterfly before they have to make their way to the club room. They’re nearly to the stairs when a voice calls out.

“Yamaguchi! Hey!”

Yamaguchi spins around and walks forward a few steps when he sees her. Kei straightens up.

“Miko-chan,” he greets happily. “How are you?”

“I’m awesome now that I see you! I was hoping I’d catch you before practice,” she says and leans down to quickly fix her sock from where it's slipped down her leg.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

The girl cocks her head. Her cropped brown hair fans across her cheek with the breeze. She juts her chin and furrows her eyebrows like Yamaguchi had asked her for the square root of some astronomical number.

“Just to see you, I guess,” she answers with a cheerful grin.

Kei sees Yamaguchi’s blush even from where he stands a couple yards away. He puts all of his effort into suppressing a grimace. The girl suddenly turns his way before she looks back to Yamaguchi.

“Who’s that glaring guy?”

“Huh? You mean Tsukki?”

Her eyes go wide and she basically skips over to Kei, Yamaguchi on her heels. Mamiko isn’t short, but she’s nowhere near Yamaguchi’s height. The afternoon sun makes her green eyes glitter as she stares up at Kei in wonder.

“So you’re Tsukki! Wow. You’re a tall one, aren’t you?” she marvels.

“Uh. Yeah,” Kei answers dumbly.

“Yamaguchi told me you were tall, but wow! Holy crap!” She turns to Yamaguchi and chirps, “I mean, right?”

Yamaguchi boasts, “He’s been super tall ever since we were kids.”

Only now that she’s up close does Kei notice her freckles. The sight of them hits him like a brick to the head. He feels like he could cry. It should absolutely not be this jarring, he knows. They do not suit you like they suit Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kei thinks rudely, and I bet no one thinks they’re cute.

His own pettiness alarms him.

“I should’ve known you were Tsukki! The headphones, the freaky tallness, the blond-beyond-blond hair, the spooky demeanor, the glasses,” she lists and counts on her fingers complementarily. Mamiko convivially swats at Kei’s forearm and insists, “It’s so awesome to meet Yamaguchi’s childhood friend!”

“You too…”

“Oh, right. Tsukki, this is Matsuda Mamiko. Miko, this is Tsukk—er, Tsukishima Kei.”

Kei furrows his brow; he can’t remember the last time Yamaguchi called him by his full name. It’s just as well. It’s not like Kei is really comfortable with just anyone calling him by his nickname, anyway. He has a fleeting thought about needing to delete Bokuto Koutarou’s string of text messages from last week.

“Cool. Tsukishima it is,” Mamiko proclaims, apparently sensing his distaste.

“Good to meet you, Matsuda-san.”

“Oh, please,” she laughs, “call me Miko.”

“Okay then.”

“Tsukishima! Yamaguchi!” Nishinoya calls. The three turn to look at him as he hangs dangerously over the railing in front of the club room door. He continues, “Chikara said he’s gonna shit in both of your lockers if you’re not up here in twenty seconds!”

“I did not say that,” Ennoshita says loudly from inside the room. He sounds bored.

“That’s one way to motivate.”

Yamaguchi chuckles at Mamiko’s comment and Kei watches the way his eyes crinkle.

“We should go,” he tells her. “I’ll text you later, Miko-chan.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she answers playfully and leaps to hug him around the shoulders.

Kei quickly searches for anywhere else to look. He settles on the Pokéball button pinned to Yamaguchi’s backpack. He thinks of the tiny holes it will leave in the leather if Yamaguchi ever decides to take it off. There would be no way to get rid of them, as leather is skin. The small punctures will be there forever.

_________

 
“Don’t make the face.”

“I’m gonna make the face.”

“I’m telling you not to, dumbass!”

“Since when do I listen to you?” Hinata retorts. “A few more tosses, come on. I know you want to.”

“I don’t like where this conversation is going,” Ennoshita drones from where he and Kinoshita do their final stretches on the gym floor.

“If they start sucking face, I’m getting out of here.”

Yamaguchi pulls his water bottle from his face and coughs violently into the crook of his elbow.

“You can’t make him laugh while he’s drinking,” Kei reprimands.

“Did you say something, Kinoshita-san?”

“Not a thing, Hinata. You should do the face,” Kinoshita responds innocently.

A rush of wind enters the gym when Tanaka and Nishinoya return through its open doors. Ennoshita instructed them run around the gym three times for telling some joke to the first-years about a hurricane and a coconut tree that Kei wishes he hadn't understood. He flinches when Nishinoya gallops to his side and slaps him right between his shoulder-blades.

“Did I scare you?” he asks. “What a wimp!”

Kei checks to make sure Yamaguchi’s not drinking anything before he responds.

“I was just surprised you could reach that high, Noya-san.”

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi cackles, but slips away to stand with Kageyama and Hinata when Nishinoya shoots him a glare. Tanaka suppresses a laugh behind his hand and throws an arm over Nishinoya’s shoulders reassuringly.

“What’re they yelling about over there?” he asks Kei.

“Something about Hinata’s face.”

“Naturally,” Tanaka quips.

“The face? Is he threatening to do the face?” Nishinoya’s dark brown eyes grow wide with concern and he wails, “Look away, Kageyama! Careful, Shouyou, he’s only human!”

He zooms across the gym to join the rest of them and Tanaka nearly falls over from the sudden loss of balance. Kei and Ennoshita sigh in unison. Tanaka sighs too, but with bliss at the refreshing breeze that pushes through the gym from outside. He turns to Kei.

“Where’d the first-years go?”

“The club room.”

“Then what the hell are we all still doing in here?”

“No idea,” Kei sighs again.

On the other side of the gym, Nishinoya leaps onto Yamaguchi’s back and Yamaguchi calls out in surprise. He barely grabs Nishinoya under his knees before the libero crashes to the ground. Hinata hops repeatedly in the space before Kageyama’s toes and Kageyama looks subtly pleased, if just a little overwhelmed. Tanaka snickers at Kei’s side.

“He doesn’t even need to do the puppy dog eyes.”

“I know,” Kei says.

“He does know that Kageyama would gladly stay here and toss to him literally anytime, right?”

Kei hums in response. Tanaka hums back.

“I think Kageyama just likes to see it,” Kei replies after a few seconds.

“You got that right.”

Yamaguchi marches around the gym like a soldier with Nishinoya on his back, pointing over the freckled teen’s shoulder as a way of indicating the direction he wants to go. Kei looks back to the other second-years. Hinata’s wrapped himself around Kageyama’s middle. Kageyama pats his head for a couple seconds and looks away.

“It’s kind of awesome, isn’t it?” Tanaka asks, turning fully to Kei.

Kei flicks his eyes to Yamaguchi again. Nishinoya ruffles his hair with both hands before dropping from Yamaguchi’s back. His shoes squeak on the gym floor when he lands.

“What’s that?” answers Kei.

“Even cranky, short-fused guys like Kageyama have that one person who they go totally weak for. Know what I mean, Tsukishima?”

Kei finally turns and levels Tanaka with a blank stare. The ace gives him a genuine, knowing smile before he claps Kei on the shoulder and follows the other third-years out the open door. The sound of Hinata’s spikes reverberate throughout the gym. Kei didn’t notice they’d started up again. He bends down and picks his water bottle up from the floor by his feet.

The third-years noisily make their way past the school gates—Nishinoya unsurprisingly the loudest—as Kei ascends the stairs to the club room. His shoes feel heavy in his hands. There’s a definite chill in the air that Kei hasn’t felt in weeks. The club room door is cracked open and the light from inside casts a long, yellow rectangle onto the landing. Kei halts when he hears the voices of the first-years. Go home already, he thinks irritably.

“I don’t get why he sticks around,” one of them is saying.

“We’ve been in this club for months now and all I’ve ever seen is Tsukishima-san being a dick to him,” another states. Kei surprises himself by recognizing the voice as Yushin’s.

“Sometimes I feel bad for him, you know?”

“Totally. I hear he’s up for vice captain,” says the first voice.

Yushin laughs comically, “No way.”

“Yeah way. I heard Tanaka-senpai saying something about it.”

“Huh. I guess stranger things have happened,” Yushin jeers.

Kei grits his teeth, face heating up, and creeps closer to the door.

“I can’t see Tsukishima-san taking orders from him.”

“Hinata-san said that Tsukishima-san and Yamaguchi have been friends for practically forever.”

“Wow. Our new vice captain must be some kind of masochist,” Yushin says airily.

The other first-years chuckle at that. Kei tightens his grip on his shoes so fiercely that his fingernail splits. He switches the sneakers to his other hand and brings his fingertip to his lips. He runs his tongue soothingly over the broken nail and tastes a hint of blood. He swears internally.

Yushin continues, “Come to think of it, Hinata-san might be one too.”

“How’d you get that?”

“From the way he’s always hanging around Kageyama-senpai. Especially when it’s so obvious that Kageyama likes me better.”

“Totally,” the others agree.

Kei wonders what the fuck world they’re living in.

But he’s heard enough (more than enough; way, way more than enough). He breathes in deeply and exhales seconds later in an attempt to calm his chaotic heartbeat; to short-circuit his rage. Kei takes the final step to the club room door.  He pounds his fist against it and it flies into the opposite wall with a thunderous crack. A poster by the doorframe of some girl group in bikinis falls to the floor with the force of it. The first-years nearly jump out of their skin. Yushin’s words die in his throat. Good, thinks Kei.

“Tsukishima-san,” he croaks as a greeting.

Kei says nothing.

He steps to his locker opposite them and starts to change. He goes slowly, letting the uncomfortableness churn in the small room and weave around the first-years, keeping them silent. He drags out the process as much as he possibly can. He notices a small trail of blood on his plain white t-shirt from his fingernail and inspects it for far longer than necessary. He unlaces his shoes delicately and with the utmost care.

His mind wanders to his blank list of his own good traits. He might as well tear the page from his notebook and burn it. If I asked Yamaguchi about it, he wonders absently, would he tell me the truth?

Kei steps unhurriedly back to the door and each footfall seems to resound in the thick, awkward air of the room. He halts in the open doorway. Kei points a pale finger at the poster he’d knocked from the wall minutes earlier. The bit of dried blood on the tip of his nail has turned it a funny pink color.

“Hang that back up,” he tells them, and exits the room.

_________

 

Yamaguchi accepts the vice captain position the very next day.

“Look at me,” rejoices Mamiko, “dating the vice captain of Karasuno’s volleyball team!”

If Kei hadn’t set his pencil down moments ago, it would have snapped in his grip. Yamaguchi eyes him worriedly before turning his attention back to Mamiko, who’s latched herself onto his arm. He looks down at her bashfully. Color rises on his tan face and Kei needs to leave, immediately.

“Tsukishima, aren’t you jazzed? Pretty cool, huh?”

“He is,” agrees Kei flatly.

“Yeah, Tsukki?” asks Yamaguchi.

Kei nods down at the assignment he’d been trying to do before the couple had bombarded him. The sun shines through the window of the classroom and onto the sole problem of the worksheet he’s completed thus far. He doesn’t think he’ll get any more done today. He feels so drained, and it’s only lunchtime.

“So now you get to boss the others in the club around, huh?”

“I don’t know about that,” Yamaguchi says and rubs at the back of his neck.

“You’re so cute when you do that, you know,” Mamiko flirts.

Yamaguchi lets his hand fall back to his side. “Do what?”

“That thing you do when you’re nervous.”

“N-nervous?” Yamaguchi stutters. “What have I got to be nervous about?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Mamiko answers with a grin, “but it’s adorable.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Kei interjects, standing up from his chair, “I’ve got to ask Hinata something about this.”

Kei swipes the worksheet from his desk and sidles around the pair. He walks briskly away.

“He’s going to ask Hinata about math?” he hears Yamaguchi mutter.

The hallway is crowded and Kei shuffles around the pods of chattering students on their break. His head feels empty. He feels dazed, like he’s just woken up from a long nap. He forcefully slides the door to Hinata’s classroom open and is relieved to see the redhead at his desk.

“Where’s Kageyama?” he asks as he looms over him.

Hinata squints. “Why is that the first thing everybody asks when they see me?”

“Are you serious?” Kei deadpans.

“He’s retaking a test in one of the other rooms.” Hinata adds, “Stingyshima.”

“Want to go outside?”

Hinata shrugs. “Sure. Hey, is everything okay? You look a little…”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

Kei doesn’t wait for him to get up before he heads out of the classroom. He hears Hinata’s slight footsteps behind him as he makes his way to an open table in the courtyard. It’s under the shade of a tree and is considerably cooler than the classrooms. Kei wishes he hadn’t left his jacket inside.

“Tsukishima?” Hinata asks, splaying his small hands over the surface of the table.

“What?”

“A katana or a machete?”

“A katana,” Kei answers immediately. “It requires more skill to use properly, but I imagine it would be worth the result.”

Hinata hums thoughtfully and strokes his chin with his index finger.

“Why?”

“Just wondering. It’s what this guy in my class and I were talking about before I abandoned him to come out here with you and all your fury.”

“Oh. You’re a freak.”

“You’re freakier,” Hinata retorts.

“You’re the freakiest.”

“Is that even a word?”

“Yes.”

Hinata looks doubtful. Kei raises a superior eyebrow at him.

“Where’s Yamaguchi?” he asks after a moment.

“In our classroom with Matsuda-san.”

“Oh, Miko-chan. What’s that?”

Hinata motions to the paper between them on the table before he takes it up in his hands. He flips it over several times like it’s a foreign language to him. Kei thinks it might as well be.

“An assignment I was working on before they started to bother me.”

Hinata’s eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline.

“Yamaguchi bothering you? I don’t believe it,” he insists with a dismissive wave.

“I didn’t say ‘he’. I said ‘they’,” Kei responds like the statement makes sense to anyone other than himself. Hinata just looks sympathetic.

Kei sighs. He takes his glasses off and they make a soft clink when he sets them on the table. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He only pulls his hands back when his eyes start to sting.

“Hinata?”

“Huh?”

“Does it bother you,” Kei asks hesitantly, “when Kageyama gets confessions?”

Kei knows it must. He’s not sure why he’s asking. Across from him, Hinata drums his fingers on the edge of the table in thought. As Kei imagined, it doesn’t take him long to respond. The orange blur (Kei still hasn’t put his glasses back on) cocks his head and looks at Kei with his eyebrows pulled together.

“Um. Not really.”

Kei notes that it’s not a flat no.

Hinata speaks up again, “Maybe it would. If he ever accepted any of them, I mean.”

The words pierce Kei through and through. His eyes sting by their own volition this time and again, he brings his hands up to cover them. He presses until he sees stars. They remind him of the wonderful constellations of freckles that cover Yamaguchi’s skin.

“I see,” Kei answers after a minute.

“Oh, ah,” Hinata sputters suddenly. “Sorry.”

Kei’s palms fall back to the table and he shoots him a sharp glance.

“For what?”

“Nothing,” Hinata decides all too quickly.

Hinata says nothing further and Kei doesn’t push him. Kei isn’t stupid. He knows what that apology was for. Hinata just stares at Kei, unfazed by the latter’s glare. You’re bothered by it, right? That Yamaguchi accepted her confession? his huge, brown eyes say, I hope Kageyama never does that to me. Sorry that it’s happened to you. I can’t believe it, either. But this is sort of your fault, right, Tsukishima? Yamaguchi’s told me everything, Hinata blinks, and you’re kind of a dumbass for letting him go.

Kei breaks their eye contact.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

Hinata nearly flinches.

“What?” he asks, like Kei’s just told him to go take a leap off of the nearest bridge.

Kei repeats, looking down at the table, “Thank you.”

“Okay,” Hinata replies slowly. “Hey, Tsukishima?”

“What?”

“Are we friends?”

A moment ticks by. Kei picks his glasses up from the table and returns them to his face.

“Yes,” he sighs. “Yes, Hinata, we’re friends.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hinata chirps. “But it’s hard to tell with you, you know!”

Kei knows. Hinata absolutely beams and Kei wishes it made him feel even a little bit better. But the stinging behind his eyes won’t lessen. The bell rings. Kei trails back into the building after a skipping Hinata, thinking once more of a constellation of familiar freckles.

Chapter 11: pretty like a cat

The constant range of emotions Kei subjects himself to as of late is disorienting. He wants to be apathetic and detached; two things he’s aware he’s very good at. They are equal halves of his natural state. Instead, he finds himself constantly worried or envious or displeased.

The envy is the worst. He’d call it jealousy if the word didn’t leave such an acidic taste in his mouth.

Only when Yamaguchi is not at his side does Kei realize he has continuously taken his constant presence for granted. He sees Mamiko and Yamaguchi side-by-side and instantly wants to take her place. It has been his for so many years and what gives her the right to take residence there now, after only a few weeks? Yamaguchi is so soft and gentle and warm and Kei wants to be close to him; closer than Mamiko, closer than Hinata, closer than everybody.

The only comfort he feels is knowing that he will be there for Yamaguchi when she and him break up, like a good friend should. He will be there. When that day will be, Kei doesn’t know. But he will be there for him. He will be the best friend that Yamaguchi absolutely deserves and Yamaguchi will never leave him like he leaves Mamiko because friendships don’t end ugly like relationships do.

He holds onto this hope even as it tries to spiral away from him.

_______

“Do I have any good traits?”

Kei takes another few steps before he realizes Yamaguchi’s stopped walking. He looks over his shoulder and Yamaguchi squints at him against the afternoon sun. Ukai’s voice floats through Sakanoshita’s open doors as they pass. Yamaguchi waves and Ukai returns it with the hand that isn’t pressing the shop’s telephone to his ear.

“Well, sure,” Yamaguchi answers eventually. “Everyone has good traits, Tsukki.”

Kei makes a noncommittal sound.

“Is this about that list in your notebook?”

“What?” Kei squawks.

Yamaguchi chirps a laugh and says, “We study with each other’s notebooks, Tsukki. I’ve seen the list. Looks like you haven’t had time to make it yet, though.”

“Oh. Right.”

If only that was the problem, Kei thinks.

Yamaguchi starts to say something more but cuts himself off with a shout. He rushes past Kei to the black cat that slinks towards them. She’s lifted and cradled in Yamaguchi’s arms a second later. Turning her head up to look at her captor, she mewls happily.

“Looks like I get you all to myself today,” Yamaguchi tells her, index finger scratching under her chin. She purrs like she’s understood him and is utterly ecstatic at the statement. “You’re really funny.” It takes a second for Kei to realize he’s speaking to him and Yamaguchi goes on, “In a really dry, sarcastic way. But that’s the best way. And you’re smart as hell. Smart with school stuff, video games, on the court. Lots of things.”

Kei’s cheeks tinge with pink like the sky overhead. Yamaguchi grins up at him. The cat swats a paw at his chest when Yamaguchi forgets to pet her. He hoists her higher up against his chest and Kei steps closer to run a tentative hand down her back.

“You’re good at volleyball.”

“So are you,” Kei tells him.

“Thanks, Tsukki. Also, you know a lot of random facts.”

“I don’t think that counts as a good trait.”

“Hey, you asked me. I say it does.”

“Fine, fine.”

“You’re calm and honest,” Yamaguchi lists, “and you’re, like, the coolest fucking person I’ve ever met in my life. But you already know that, and it just makes me sound like more and more of a loser every time I say it.”

Fondness bubbles in Kei’s chest and he doesn’t bother holding back his chuckle. He abruptly swallows it when he and Yamaguchi’s hands meet, both of them reaching to pet the small patch of white on the otherwise black cat’s chest. Yamaguchi opts to pet the top of her head instead and carries on like Kei isn’t frozen still, his hand hovering awkwardly in front of the cat’s face.

“You’re mature. You’re neat.”

“Mature means boring, doesn’t it?”

Yamaguchi ignores Kei’s quip and quietly continues.

“You’re pretty,” he murmurs.

Kei’s not sure he’s heard him right.

“Pretty?”

“Mhm,” Yamaguchi hums, looking squarely down.

Kei’s heart falls.

“Pretty like a girl?” he asks, voice breaking. His thoughts form erratically: Pretty like Mamiko? So that’s why you kissed me?

Yamaguchi is instantly alarmed as Kei’s tone is always, always steady. Where Kei had felt like an afterthought before, he now feels like he's been pushed so far beyond the back burner that he's fallen off the range entirely. Yamaguchi had just praised him for being calm, but Kei wants to turn on his heel, walk back to the school, and smack volleyballs against the gym wall until his arm goes numb. The freckled teen moves closer to Kei so the toes of their sneakers nearly touch. He tilts his head to look up at him and doesn’t speak until Kei meets his gaze.

“What?” he asks, utterly baffled. “No, Kei.”

“Ah,” Kei replies because he feels like he needs to say something.

“Pretty…pretty like a cat.”

The two teenagers look down at the creature in Yamaguchi’s arms. Yellow, slitted eyes bore into Kei like she’s deciding whether she agrees or not. They’re so close; Yamaguchi’s cowlick shakes with Kei’s stuttering exhale.

A chorus of muted beeps sings from Yamaguchi’s backpack.

“Can you check that for me?” he asks, preoccupied.

Kei steps around him and shuffles through Yamaguchi’s school things until he finds his phone.

 

from: miko ✿

subject: Re: :) :)

too cute, for real. let’s get together tonight, heeeey? <3

 

Kei has never despised a number and a less than sign more in his entire life. How gaudy, he thinks.

“It’s Matsuda-san.”

“What does she say?” Yamaguchi asks distractedly. He waves and fans his fingers in front of the black cat’s face and her pale eyes follow their every movement. Yamaguchi watches her in adoration.

“She wants to hang out with you tonight.”

“What does she say exactly?”

Kei sighs, “'Too cute for real. Let’s get together tonight, hey. Less than three.’”

Yamaguchi stares at Kei with pursed lips for a second before he sputters and cracks the fuck up. It startles the cat and she finally leaps from Yamaguchi’s arms and bolts around the side of the shop. He continues on, bending over to put his hands on his knees. He cackles down at the dirt road.

“Jesus, Yamaguchi,” reprimands Kei with a blush, “it wasn’t that funny.”

“It was, though, Tsukki, it was! Less than three,” he mimics shakily through another bout of laughter. “You should’ve heard yourself!”

“I did hear myself.”

Yamaguchi prattles on, “Not to mention, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the word ‘cute’ in our entire lives! Maybe once. Maybe once, Tsukki.”

Yamaguchi is absolutely delighted and it must be a little bit contagious because the corner of Kei’s lips turn up without his permission. Yamaguchi’s hands are free now, but he makes no move to retrieve his phone. He just starts to walk again. Kei falls into place beside him and hovers his thumbs over Yamaguchi’s phone screen.

“What should I respond?” he asks.

“Tell her sorry, but Tsukki and I have to study for our test tomorrow morning. Add a couple of frowny faces too, please.”

 

to: miko ✿

subject: Re: :) :)

Studying with Tsukki.:(

 
It’s the most satisfying text Kei’s ever sent. Yamaguchi leans into his shoulder to inspect.

“You made it sound like I’m sad to be studying with you. Plus, that’s only, like, a quarter of the words I said to say.”

“Forgive me. I don’t know how to text cutely.”

“Ha! You said it again!” Yamaguchi rejoices.

“I did.”

“Say it again!”

“No.”

“Tsukki!”

Kei sighs, “Cute.”

To Kei’s ears, it comes out more like a comment on Yamaguchi’s current overjoyed state than anything; eyes crinkling, freckled face red with laughter, hands gripping Kei’s sleeve like he’ll topple from a Kei-induced joy overdose at any second. Kei’s so in love he feels he may topple, too.

“Now say, ‘less than three’.”

“What am I, your prized parrot?”

“You’re a prize alright,” Yamaguchi chuckles.

________

  

“I deleted your number from Bokuto-san’s phone,” Akaashi Keiji tells Kei after the practice match.

His voice is surprisingly level even after Fukurodani’s lap of flying falls as a result of losing to Karasuno. Kei pulls his sports glasses down around his neck and wipes his face with the towel Kageyama hands him in passing. He blinks as Hinata sprints past where he and Akaashi stand on the sidelines of the gymnasium. He returns his goggles to their place. The rush of wind Hinata creates cools the remaining sweat on Kei’s face.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Sorry about that.”

Kei glances at him in amusement. “It’s fine.”

“He should be busy studying his classwork or practicing,” Akaashi sighs, but it sounds more fond than discontented.

“One would think.”

Kei appreciates Akaashi’s company. This is a rare occurrence for Kei. He has a calming presence that Karasuno’s team members just can’t match (except maybe Yamaguchi). Talking with him always reminds Kei of summer camp; of watermelon and the relentless heat, of endless sprints up and down grassy hills, of the way the moonlight hit Yamaguchi’s freckled face when he’d yelled at Kei to get his shit together.

At the other end of the gym, Yamaguchi stands over the three first-years with his hands on his hips. They sit on the floor hugging their knees and stare up at him with wide eyes. Kei squints at them. Say one bad thing about your vice captain now, he thinks, I dare you. He turns back to Fukurodani’s captain.

“Your new first-years seem spirited,” Kei says.

“I suppose so. They’re hardworking.”

Kei hums in response. Ennoshita comes to join Yamaguchi from across the gym and the first-years’ eyes nearly pop out of their heads. Tanaka and Nishinoya zip by to ruffle their hair.

“And your first-years?” asks Akaashi.

Kei shrugs indifferently and the setter chuckles.

“I guess Karasuno had all its luck with first-years last year,” he jests.

Akaashi steps back to his team with a small wave and Kei nods back and surveys the gym. His eyes land on Hinata and Kageyama, who make their way over to him. Or rather, Kageyama does; Hinata’s latched himself onto his lower leg and Kageyama walks haggardly until he doubles over in front of Kei. Hinata beams up at him.

“Help me,” Kageyama pants.

“Shut up, you don’t need any help. You’re doing just fine!” insists Hinata.

“You two need to be reprogrammed.”

“He says he wants help, Tsukishima, but it was his idea.”

“I just wanted to see if I could lift you with my foot, dumbass. I didn’t want you to cling to me like some kind of stupid monkey. It was easy for the first five minutes, but now I’m—”

“You’ve been doing this for over five minutes?”

“—but now I’m tired. My toes are numb.”

“Well, I’m comfortable,” Hinata whines.

Kei’s eyes find Yamaguchi. Tanaka talks to him animatedly near the benches, arms flailing at his sides.

“Kageyama-san! Think you could move with me on your other foot?”

Kageyama blinks at Yushin who seems to have materialized at Kei’s side. Kei has a fleeting thought about putting bells on him so they can always tell when he’s coming. And then leave before he arrives.

“You’re too tall, probably,” says Kageyama.

“Yeah, definitely too tall,” Kei supplements automatically.

Hinata chuckles from his place on the ground. Yushin’s toothy grin falters for only a second.

“If you say so! Save me a seat on the bus later, ‘kay?” he lilts with a wink before retreating.

Kageyama watches him stoically.

“The bus has plenty of seats,” he drones, “why would I need to save one for him?”

He yelps when Hinata headbutts his kneecap.

Kei is suddenly pulled away from the action by a cold hand around his bicep. He stumbles to the corner of the gym where he’s being dragged and eventually whirls around to see a freckled face. Yamaguchi stares at him with his eyes uncharacteristically wide. He lets go of Kei’s arm and runs his fingers through the brown bangs that stick to the sweat on his forehead.

“What?” he asks.

“Tanaka-senpai just gave me a condom.”

“What?” Kei repeats.

“A condom,” Yamaguchi says again.

“I heard you,” huffs Kei. “I meant why?”

“They found out I have a girlfriend.”

Yamaguchi’s words, the label he’s given Mamiko, his entire goddamn statement makes Kei’s lip curl up in distaste. He quickly brings his hand up to adjust his sports glasses in an attempt to hide it. The spot which Yamaguchi had gripped his arm a minute ago starts to itch.

“So Tanaka-san gave you a condom?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a crinkling sound and then Yamaguchi’s holding his palm out between them. The object glints dully under the fluorescent lights. Kei does not look down at it. He’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the sight of Yamaguchi staring at him with his eyes wide and trusting like that and holding out a condom to Kei like an offering. Heat swoops through his abdomen. Kei keeps steady eye contact.

“Wait, what’s he even doing with one of those?”

“Take a guess, Tsukki.”

“Thank you, no,” Kei tries to deadpan, though his tone wavers.

Yamaguchi stuffs the thing back in his jacket pocket and shakes his head back and forth. His shaggy hair whips his cheeks with the force of it.

“What do I do?” he asks.

Kei blanches. “You’re asking me?”

Yamaguchi nods, eyebrows pinched together in a worried fashion.

“Yamaguchi, I,” Kei struggles, “I don’t even like gir—er, I haven’t got the first—”

The freckled teen sputters a syllable and cups his hand quickly over Kei’s mouth. It smells like salt and the rubber bladder of a volleyball. Yamaguchi’s face is red as rubies.

“Not that. I wasn’t asking you about that. How would you know about that?” Yamaguchi questions honestly. “I meant what should I do about the condom? This is too much pressure.”

Kei feels a little embarrassed that Yamaguchi is aware of his lack of knowledge when it comes to the subject of sex. He knows he was my first—and only—kiss, Kei thinks, so why would he think I’d done anything different with anyone else? Kei can’t even imagine how that would go. He doesn’t really care to.

“Should I just give it back to him?”

“Just…throw it out or something. Fuck, Yamaguchi, I don’t know,” Kei swears, voice edging on frantic. “Why are you telling me about this, anyway?”

“Uh, because you get mad when I don’t?”

Kei considers that statement. He’s tortured by the details Yamaguchi provides and yet wants Yamaguchi to hide nothing from him. That would hurt even worse. As far as Kei’s concerned, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t and it is getting increasingly difficult to see the light at the end of this tunnel. He thinks he might just have to get used to the darkness. Perhaps he would eventually develop the ability to echolocate, like bats. It’s just as well. His eyesight is already pretty shitty, anyway.

Kei forces himself out of his head and back into the moment at hand. Yamaguchi blinks up at him, face still flushed from physical exertion. Kei has the urge to press their sweaty foreheads together.

“Bats emit specific frequencies in which to echolocate. Which frequency they choose just depends on their environment and the type of prey they’re looking for,” muses Kei.

Yamaguchi cocks his head. “Neat,” he lilts.

Kei nods in agreement. He clears his throat.

“I thought you said you thought about it a lot.”

“What?”

“Kissing. And other stuff.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi breathes after a moment.

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah. But not with—I mean, it’s just…” he pauses. “This is different.”

“I see,” says Kei, even though he doesn’t.

But not with what? Not with her? Perhaps with me? Kei thinks greedily.

His hungry eyes grow wide. Twine twists around his gut and pulls tight. He could wrap Yamaguchi in his arms, still kind of sore from the match, and press his face into his neck. Kei would bite and suck at the tan, salty skin there, not exactly sure what he was doing but knowing it felt good for both of them. He stares down at Yamaguchi. He’s attractive, Kei believes, even under the nauseating gymnasium lights. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Do you want it?” Yamaguchi asks, pulling the condom from his pocket again.

“Is that a joke?”

“An attempt at one.”

Kei grins and shakes his head, entirely too fond of the boy in front of him.

“Give it to Hinata and Kageyama,” he says.

“Oh my god, no,” laughs Yamaguchi. “That’s terrible, Tsukki.”

“I dare you. Come on.”

“Oh, you dare me? Are we twelve?”

“No. But they are. Mentally.”

They both turn to watch the pair in question. They stand with Tanaka and Nishinoya, the latter of which has his arms around Hinata’s middle and lifts him laboriously into the air. Kageyama stands a few feet away with his hands out in front of him, as if in preparation to snatch the redhead when Nishinoya inevitably keels over. Tanaka claps his hands like he’s watching a particularly entertaining performance.

“I’m not giving twelve year-olds a condom,” says Yamaguchi, “mentally or otherwise.”

“Suit yourself.”

_______

 

Kageyama was right; there are usually plenty of the seats on the bus. Just not when Ukai insists on borrowing multiple sets of pole pads from the other school until Karasuno manages to get theirs replaced. The pads occupy the entire back bench of the bus, forcing some of the teammates to triple-up in the two seat rows and double-up in the singles.

Nishinoya squeezes himself next to Yamaguchi and subsequently shoves Yamaguchi up against Kei and Kei against the bus window. There’s room next to Tanaka, but Kei has a feeling Nishinoya felt like inconveniencing them just for sport.

“I can lay across your guys’ laps, if that’d be better for you,” suggests the libero.

“No need. We’re fine.”

“You sure, Tsukishima? You look a little uncomfortable.”

If Nishinoya only knew how comfortable he actually felt with Yamaguchi’s thigh pressed to his and their sides warm against one another’s. He sighs loudly in place of a proper response to his teammate. Yamaguchi looks skeptical of them both.

“What are you just standing there for?” Kageyama asks.

“I’m waiting for you to move your hands.”

“What for, dumbass?”

“So I can sit on your lap?” Hinata responds like it’s a ridiculous question.

“What? No! Not here,” Kageyama sputters.

Kei snickers at his word choice and Yamaguchi quickly jabs him in the ribs with his elbow. Yushin turns around in his seat up front, looking like he wants to suggest something. Kei levels him with a glower and the first-year wisely remains quiet.

“Would you rather me sit on someone else’s lap?” Hinata asks with his hands on his hips. Kageyama downright scowls. In his silence, Hinata spins around and says, “Yamaguchi, can I sit on your lap? Noya-san—no, wait, I feel like I’d squish you. No offense. Tsukishima, what about yours?”

“No,” answers Kei.

“But you said yourself that we’re friends!”

“That does not translate to ‘please feel free to sit on my lap’.”

“Does it not?” Hinata questions. Next to Kei, Yamaguchi giggles into his hand.

Kageyama grabs Hinata by the back of his jacket and pulls him down onto his lap. Hinata looks pleased, the way he does after pulling off a successful feint; like he’s accomplished something. He beams at Nishinoya when he gives him a thumbs up.

“Fine. But stay still,” Kageyama demands.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Why?”

“Because you deserve it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re dumb.”

“Why?”

“Please god, make it stop,” Kei groans.

Yamaguchi pats his arm sympathetically. Nishinoya roars with laughter before he initiates a rousing game of poke-Tanaka-in-the-shoulder-from-the-seat-behind-him. Tanaka whips around and pokes his head over the seat every single time, like a goddamn whack-a-mole game. Kei absently wishes he had a mallet.

He looks from the window to see Yamaguchi tapping at his phone. Nishinoya leans his head on his shoulder and openly watches as he types.

“Who’re you texting?”

“Miko-chan.” Tap-tap-tap.

“Oh, your girlfriend,” Tanaka sings over his shoulder.

Kinoshita turns around and peeks over the seat in front of Yamaguchi.

“What?” he asks. Tap-tap.

“What, what?” Yamaguchi pauses his typing to look up at him.

“You have a girlfriend? But I thought you were…” Kinoshita pauses and points a finger at Kei.

Kei wishes his bus seat had an eject button. Yamaguchi looks similarly trapped. Ennoshita coughs awkwardly next to Kinoshita and the third-year winces like he’s been pinched. A blush rises on his cheeks. Kei looks out the window again in fear of his own face noticeably heating up.

“I just didn’t know, I mean! Er—ah, is she pretty?” he stammers.

It takes Yamaguchi a good few seconds to respond. He looks back down at his phone and starts to type again, but not before glancing over at Kei. Kei pretends not to notice.

“Yeah,” he answers, “she’s pretty.”

“She’s hot,” Nishinoya commends.

“Hey,” Yamaguchi scolds with a glare.

“That’s supposed to be a compliment to you!”

“How does that work?” Kei mutters to the window.

“Yeah, Yamaguchi. Nice job,” says Tanaka. “Even Tsukishima can’t deny she’s a work of art, for real. Right?”

Kei feels like a caged animal. Hinata jitters on Kageyama’s lap, eyes wide like he’s about to witness a spectacle.

“She’s fine,” he deadpans.

“Is she fine, or is she fine?” Tanaka asks with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Dumbass, stop moving so much,” Kageyama orders suddenly.

“I can’t help it!” insists Hinata.

Kei’s relieved to have the attention off of himself.

“You can’t help it? What are you, a toddler?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Stop squirming or I’ll—“ Kageyama sucks in a breath and eyes Hinata seriously, “—or I will throw you off my lap.”

“No you won’t, Kageyama!”

“I really, really will.”

“I think he might, Hinata,” Yamaguchi frets.

Kei adds impatiently, “Just sit still.”

“Do it and I’ll give you a wet willy,” teases the redhead.

Kageyama looks distressed for a multitude of reasons.

“Don’t be gross,” he says.

“Let me off this bus,” Kei insists with urgency, “I’ll just walk home.”

Ennoshita stands up and turns around to face them so quickly Kei’s surprised his spine doesn’t snap in half. He whacks Kinoshita in the head with his arm in the process and doesn’t even look sorry about it. They all know their captain’s pissed off face well enough by now and the bus goes silent. Even Yachi trails off in the very front seat where she talks with the first-years.

“That’s enough,” he snaps. “Sit still and pretend you’re all normal until we get back to the school, or I swear I’ll drive this bus right off the nearest cliff. Got it?”

“Got it,” the team choruses.

“Chikara, you’re not even the one driving.”

“Fine,” he tells Nishinoya, “then we’ll stop the bus, I’ll pick each of you up, and I’ll personally carry you to the nearest cliff. And then I’ll throw you off of it, one by one. Does that sound better?”

“Only by a small margin,” Nishinoya answers.

Ennoshita rolls his eyes and sits back down with a loud, resonating sigh.

Notes:

check out the art made for this chapter, omg.

Chapter 12: the language of his former heart

Notes:

my dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice i catch
the language of my former heart, and read
my former pleasures in the shooting lights
of thy wild eyes.

— wordsworth / lines composed a few miles above tintern abbey

“Kinoshita-san thought I was your boyfriend, Tsukki.”

Kei nearly stumbles even as he stands stationary on his porch. His hand falls from the doorknob. Yamaguchi had been silent nearly their entire walk to Kei’s house. This is what you’ve been thinking about? Kei wonders.

“I noticed.”

Yamaguchi stares somewhere over Kei’s shoulder. There’s a bloated pause before he speaks again, like he’s not sure exactly where he is going with this. Kei’s not either. The cool night air nips at his ears. He resists the quiet urge to needlessly adjust his glasses.

“Tsukki, would you ever have a girlfriend?”

Kei gulps. “No.”

“Ever?”

“No,” he repeats firmly.

“Oh.”

Yamaguchi fidgets in place. Kei’s hands come together to wring anxiously.

Kei’s not lying. He thinks that if he were to ever have a girlfriend, he would’ve had one by now. He’s had plenty of opportunities. Yamaguchi knows this. No box of candy, no matter how sweet, has softened his hard edges. No girl’s touch has ever left him breathless. No confession has made his heart speed up or made sweat coat his palms as they shake.

Save for one.

He compiles a list of his own features: his pale hands, his wide hips, his golden eyes. His mouth and his dick. These are what Yamaguchi thinks about when he touches himself (does he still, or are their softer curves on his mind now?), and Kei still isn’t over it. It’s far and away his favorite confession of the dozens he’s received. He doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s sexual instead of emotional. He doesn’t think he’s very good on either of these fronts, though there’s not enough evidence to sufficiently back up either argument.

Kei wonders if this ever makes Yamaguchi feel insecure; that Kei opened his lips for him but not his heart. He has to know that Kei thinks about him for more than his looks, right? Surely, surely, Kei answers himself, surely he sees it in the way I look at him.

But what if he doesn’t?

“I didn’t kiss you just because of the way you look,” Kei says because Yamaguchi deserves to know.

He doesn’t let himself think about the ever-expanding list of other things Yamaguchi deserves to know from him and instead lets this one hang in the air between them. Yamaguchi’s mouth falls open but his response, if he did indeed have one, dies on his tongue. His sharp eyes blink owlishly. Under the cover of darkness, Kei always feels more courageous.

“I would never kiss you solely because I like the way you look.”

It’s the most emotionally revealing thing Kei can ever remember saying. His head finally catches up with his mouth and his heart starts to race. The porch light flickers. He remembers his mother said something about needing to replace it soon.

“Shut up,” Yamaguchi growls.

“...What?”

Kei’s racing heart falls into his stomach. He eyes Yamaguchi’s hands, balled into fists and quivering at his sides. Yamaguchi, though shorter than Kei, somehow seems to tower over him. Fury radiates from him like warmth from a space heater.

“Don’t say shit like that to me,” he snarls, top lip stretched over white teeth. “You don’t get to keep telling me that you want to be my friend and then go and say that. Don’t you get that?!”

He stands his ground for another second. It’s the single longest second of Kei’s entire adolescence.

Yamaguchi then turns on his heel and stalks off.

Kei watches him from his front porch until his figure blends into the inkiness of nightfall. The lightbulb above him buzzes and goes out. Kei stands there for a minute, steeped in darkness and sick to his stomach before he enters his house.

His feet carry him to the kitchen.

“The front porch light went out,” he tells his mother.

She looks up from her magazine to reply but stops short when she sees him.

“Kei? What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

Immediately, she’s at his side. She reaches up and brushes the pad of her thumb under Kei’s eye. She smears the tear over the skin of his cheek. Another falls, and another. Kei hardly notices. His mom looks up at him with big, concerned eyes and Kei forces his lips together. If he opens his mouth, far too much will come out.

But he can’t help but make a strangled sound when his mother pulls him into her gentle arms. She rubs circles into his back and Kei’s arms raise to hold her tightly. He puts his forehead on her shoulder and his tears seep into the itchy material of her sweater. She shushes him soothingly like she used to do when he was small.

It just makes him cry harder.

He lets out loud, desperate wails into his mother’s shoulder and doesn’t care that he sounds like he’s dying because he honestly feels like he could. This is where his distancing and overthinking has gotten him. He’s done all of this to himself, and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

If I’ve ever made Yamaguchi feel like this, Kei thinks, I don’t ever deserve to be with him.

“I can’t—I can’t be his friend, Mom,” he blubbers.

“Okay, honey. Here, let me take your glasses.”

He peels them from his face and gives them to her, the lenses wet and dripping.

“I think he hates me,” he warbles. “He’s finally gotten sick of me, I think. Seven years is far too long, Mom, and now he’s had enough.”

“Tadashi?” she mumbles.

Kei nods vigorously. More tears trail down his cheeks when he squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

“Tadashi could never hate you, sweetheart.”

But he could, Kei wants to scream, he could, he could! You don’t even know! He’s sure lots of people do. Even the people he considers or even half-considers his friends have hated him at some point, like Hinata and Kageyama. The rest of the volleyball team only puts up with him because they have to, and would probably avoid him if they had the option.

He thinks, isn’t Yamaguchi overdue to hate me? Years and years overdue?

“You and Dad were close friends before you got together,” Kei garbles, ducking his head to once again rest on his mother’s shoulder. “Then you started dating each other, and then you were in love, but then you weren’t. You split up, and you were once in love with each other. You were once friends, good friends, and now you don’t even talk.”

“Kei—”

“The same thing happened to your sister and my uncle, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, but—”

“If that happened to me, I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle that, Mom,” he rambles, and hopes she understands what he means. “I need him never, or I need him always.”

He pulls back to look at her. She pinches her eyebrows together and cups his face in her soft hands. The metal band of the ring she wears on her pointer finger is cool as it presses against Kei’s wet, flushed face.

“You aren’t me or your father, and neither is Tadashi.”

“Right,” Kei sniffles.

“You’re not your aunt or your uncle. Shit happens, you know that. But if it means anything to you, Kei, I don’t ever see that happening with you and Tadashi.”

He wants to believe her, but there’s a nagging thought at the back of his head that tells him she only says this because she’s his mother and she feels obligated. He sniffles again and wipes his face with the sleeve of his jacket. His mother pulls him down so she can kiss his forehead. Kei feels so, so young. His vulnerability feels present and palpable, like he could reach out and hold it in his hands.

“It might,” Kei whispers to himself as he lies in his bed later that night. “It might happen to us, though, someday. But I’m not sure I care anymore.”

________

 

Kei’s mom surprises him by letting him stay home the next day. When he asks her why, she looks at him quizzically. She cocks her head and her dangling earring disappears in her honey-colored hair.

“Kei, I haven’t seen you cry since you were twelve.”

He insists that he doesn’t need to stay home (he’s not that pathetic, or so he likes to think) but he stays in bed anyway. She kisses him on the forehead before she leaves for work, once again making him feel about seven years old. Her perfume smells sweet. It lingers for a bit after she leaves.

He must have really worn himself out last night—had it really been five years since he’d last cried?—because Kei sleeps straight through the morning and into the late afternoon. He wakes periodically to his phone chirping with text notifications but makes no move to check them. The sun is sliding back down the sky by the time Kei finally rises from his bed. Soft spring rain taps at the windows of the house.

He goes to the kitchen for a glass of ice water and returns promptly to his warm mattress. He pulls the covers around his waist and gropes his nightstand for his phone. With a sigh, he opens his messages.

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: look outside

omg its raining

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: look outside

you oyw?

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: look outside

we’re gonna be late tsukki, move your ass

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: ???

leaving my house,, i’ll see you at school ??!

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: ???

i slipped four times on the way to school this morning….. :<

 

from: Hinata S

subject: help meeee

tsukishima are you in your classroom??? i need math help

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: ???

ok i lied……………..it was SIX

 

from: Hinata S

subject: woah woah wOAH

come to the courtyard holy crap there’s this neat beetle. yamaguchi’s freaking out for real

 

from: Kageyama

subject: Practice

Are u not coming to afternoon practice either?

 

from: Hinata S

subject: woah woah wOAH

oh jk yama says you’re not here today??? guess i should’ve known that since you weren’t at practice this morning??? whoops

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: hey

i kind of want to come check on you but i don’t want to get there and you’ll be like puking your guts out or smth :o

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: tsukki

are you mad at me?

 

from: Mom

subject: Working late

Working late tonight sweetie. Pls go on and eat if you get hungry ok?

 

from: Kageyama

subject: Practice

Slacker

 

“Fuck!” Kei yells into the emptiness of his house because he feels like it. He powers his phone off and tosses it across his bed. He feels exhausted just reading those texts (and fourteen of them? Really?). He could probably sleep another couple of hours if he’s honest with himself. He lies back and stares at his ceiling.

If anything, Yamaguchi should be angry with him. Guilt twists at his insides. Kei thought Yamaguchi would be mad at him, maybe even ignore him, but he’d texted him first thing this morning with the expectation that Kei’d come over. Just like normal. Perhaps it was purely out of habit. After all, Kei’s not sure if he and Yamaguchi would even know how to ignore each other. They are so seamlessly integrated into each other’s lives that he has a feeling they’d each fall apart without the other.

He sits up and throws the covers off of himself, suddenly restless.

The quiet pitter-patter of the rain pervades Kei’s room when he slides open the window above his bed. He draws in a deep breath. A cool, damp breeze rushes in. It feels nice over his bare chest and he exhales slowly.

The three knocks on the front door sound terribly loud in the silent house.

Kei opens it to his favorite freckled face. Yamaguchi gives him a tired smile. Kei steps to the side and Yamaguchi enters the Tsukishima household without a word. Kei watches as he slowly toes his shoes off. He pads to Kei’s bedroom and Kei follows suit, a myriad of questions on his tongue. But if he’s honest, he’s just happy to be in Yamaguchi’s general vicinity after the absolute wreckage that was the night before.

Yamaguchi drops his bag on the floor by Kei’s desk and hangs his jacket meticulously over the back of the adjoining chair. He crosses the room. Kei goes still as Yamaguchi crawls into his bed. His brown hair fans over Kei’s pillow and his eyes flutter closed. Outside, the rain falls harder than before. Kei shivers inexplicably.

“Practice was really rough today,” Yamaguchi finally mumbles.

“…Oh?” prompts Kei.

There’s a shuffling sound when Yamaguchi nods his head over Kei’s pillow. Kei barely makes it out over the rainfall. He ponders for a second about sitting on the bed with him, but chickens out and opts for the floor at the last second. Kei sits cross-legged and puts his elbow on the bed by Yamaguchi’s forehead. He rests his chin in his hand.

“Lots of running,” Yamaguchi continues, eyes still closed.

“That sucks.”

“And blows,” adds Yamaguchi.

Kei puffs air through his nose, a poor excuse for a laugh.

“I caught a pretty beetle during lunch today.”

“What kind?” Kei asks.

“Not sure. You weren’t there to identify it for me,” Yamaguchi chides.

“Well, what did it look like?”

“It was tiny and bright green like a gem,” he informs Kei, “but underneath its wings was this copper, reddish color.”

“An emerald ash borer, probably.”

It’s only when Yamaguchi opens his eyes for the first time since lying down that Kei realizes how close their faces are. Yamaguchi blinks at him slowly. He remembers how angry Yamaguchi looked last night, with his eyes all sharp and squinted. He thinks of Yamaguchi’s fists balled at his sides like he wanted to hit him. Kei would have deserved it. At least then he’d feel on the outside how he does on the inside; sore and wrecked.

Yamaguchi reaches blindly behind himself and pulls Kei’s comforter over his body, right up to his chin. It’s probably still warm from when Kei was wrapped it in not five minutes ago. He exhales contentedly and closes his eyes once more. He grins lazily. Kei eyes the less noticeable freckles on the bridge of Yamaguchi’s nose.

“You don’t even like bugs.”

“Nope.”

“And yet you know so much about them,” Yamaguchi says through a yawn. “Remember when I used to bring you empty cicada shells when we were little? The ones I’d find clinging to the fence at my grandparents’ house?”

“Yes.”

“You hated them.”

“I did.”

“But I just kept giving them to you anyway, didn't I, Tsukki?”

I was in love with you then and I'm in love with you now, Tadashi, Kei’s brain randomly chooses this moment to remind him.

“Bugs are fine only when they’re in books. Are you wearing lipstick?”

“Must be Mamiko’s,” Yamaguchi answers without a thought.

Kei feels like he could bawl all over again.

“I know what I said last night,” Yamaguchi declares steadily, “and I’m not sorry. I meant it.”

The brisk subject change leaves Kei reeling. He pulls his elbow from the bed and hangs his head in shame. Yamaguchi keeps his eyes closed, but Kei can see them flicker about underneath his eyelids. It might be creepy if Kei could properly concentrate on it. His heart crashes loudly against his ribcage. Kei thinks of how hard he cried not twenty-four hours ago, his own wails and sobs sounding foreign to his ears. He remembers the hollow feeling afterward. He was just a rag someone had wrung out to dry. He gazes at Yamaguchi and wonders, do you ever feel the same?

But Yamaguchi was right—of course Yamaguchi was right—and Kei was out of line. Rarely do his words get away from him like that. But it still felt good to say: I would never kiss you solely because I like the way you look. Kei doesn’t think he’d ever kiss anyone just because of their appearance, but Yamaguchi least of all. It’s not because Kei doesn’t like the way he looks; Kei does; he likes it, he loves it, he’s nearly obsessed with it. But there is just so much more to him that eclipses that, and there always has been.

How cruel it was to tell Yamaguchi this after all of the lines Kei’s drawn in the sand. He wants to kick them up. He’ll draw their initials there instead. He wants to feel the sun on his skin and the salty water around his ankles and Yamaguchi at his side.

“Then I’m not sorry about what I said either,” Kei finally exhales.

When Yamaguchi flits his eyes open again, Kei expects to see that same squinting rage that was highlighted under his porch light last night. But Yamaguchi just watches him softly. He almost looks like he’s searching for something and if Kei knew what that something was, he’d present it to him immediately and without question. Yamaguchi shifts in Kei’s blankets.

Outside, the rain lets up. In the newfound silence, Kei hears Yamaguchi swallow.

“I want to say something right now,” Kei admits, “but I’m afraid it will make you similarly angry.”

“You? Afraid?” Yamaguchi asks unbelievably.

Kei nods. “Terrified.”

Yamaguchi makes an amused sound and his eyes continue to search. Kei doesn’t miss the way they wander down his neck and linger on his protruding collarbones. Bite them, he thinks automatically. Familiar sparks simmer in his lower abdomen. Yamaguchi’s face turns the slightest hint of crimson and Kei wouldn’t notice if he weren’t watching him so intently. Sharp, brown eyes flick up to meet Kei’s golden ones.

“Then don’t say it,” Yamaguchi decides, closing his eyes once more.

“Okay.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t hate him, and Kei supposes that’s enough for now.

Mamiko gets to leave her lipstick on his mouth, sure, but does she get to watch Yamaguchi as he falls asleep in her bed? Does she know all the progress he’s made on every front since he was ten years old? Does she know the exact pattern his glances make when he’s nervous, and can she tell when he’s lying just by the tone of his melodic voice? Can she tell Kei of Yamaguchi's worst fears (he claims it’s heights, but it’s actually violent storms) and can she list his favorite Pokémon as they’ve changed over the years (Nidoqueen, Mantine, Herdier, Furfrou, Sylveon)? Does she know the stuttering of his breath as he reveals secrets he’s kept for far too long? Can Mamiko love Yamaguchi as he deserves: unconditionally? Can she adore him, ad infinitum?

Kei does; Kei can.

I like you in my bed, too, he thinks. I like you in my bed too, Tadashi.

In his head, he shouts the thought on an endless loop. Maybe if he focuses hard enough, Yamaguchi will figure it out somehow. He won’t voice it, because Yamaguchi says not to, but Kei can think it all he wants. So he does.

He prays Yamaguchi thinks it, too.

Chapter 13: casanova just can't turn the charm on

Notes:

title comes from 'rhode island' by the front bottoms. check it out.

happy, happy reading!

The sky is painted a mystical purple when Kei wakes up for the fifth time that day. The clouds look dark and treacherous as they crawl through the heavens. He’ll never be able to get to sleep tonight; he’s slept quite literally all day. The evening has brought a serious chill into Kei’s room through the open window.

He’d fallen asleep sitting on the floor, his forehead on the bed in front of him. His glasses have probably pressed weird indents into his face. He’ll be feeling the crick in his neck for days to come. But he doesn’t regret it.

Yamaguchi’s arm sticks out from under the comforter. He’s slung it over Kei’s bare shoulder, fingertips resting lightly on his protruding shoulder-blade. Kei turns his head so his temple rests on his mattress. He sucks in a breath at the sharp pain in his neck but tries to ignore it. He eyes Yamaguchi’s forearm.

Kei has always liked Yamaguchi’s forearms. The tops of them are tan like the rest of Yamaguchi’s skin, their undersides paler (not as pale as Kei’s own skin, not even close, but rather pale in relation to Yamaguchi). Freckles dot Yamaguchi’s elbows and taper off about an inch and a half below them. Yamaguchi’s forearms are left bare. Their undersides are also bare of the fine, brown hairs that cover the rest of his arm. The paler skin there must be so smooth. Kei pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. He lifts his hand from his lap. Steadily, he runs the pad of his index finger down the length of Yamaguchi’s forearm. It’s smooth and soft, just like he anticipated.

Kei’s finger stills when the wrist that rests on his shoulder stretches slightly. In his sleep, Yamaguchi barely presses his blunt fingernails into the skin of Kei’s back. It goes straight to his dick. Kei’s eyes grow wide and his composed breathing abandons him. He closes his mouth, thinking it’s less noticeable if he breathes through his nose.

His fingertip retraces its path back up Yamaguchi’s forearm to the crook of his elbow. Again, Yamaguchi’s dull fingernails press into his back. It’s really more fingertips than anything, but it still makes Kei’s head spin. Yamaguchi gripping at his skin like that, as if claiming it for himself—the thought is too much.

His senses return to him and he quickly pulls his hand back to his side. He puffs out a ragged breath.

Bad friend, he scolds himself like he’s an unruly puppy. Bad, bad Kei.

He plucks the slender arm from over his shoulder and places it parallel to Yamaguchi, on top of the comforters. Yamaguchi immediately pulls it to his chest and rolls over onto his other side. Kei eyes the drool spot he’s left on his pillow with a sigh.

Yamaguchi’s phone lights up on his nightstand. It’s a beacon in Kei’s otherwise dark room. Kei sits up on his knees and crawls over to it. Hinata stares cheerily from the screen with a volleyball balancing on his head, a blurry Kageyama flipping him off in the background. Kei takes the phone in his hand. He pads quietly into the kitchen after he throws on a t-shirt.

“What?” he answers.

“Did you do it?” chirps Hinata.

“Do what?”

“Huh?”

“Did he do what?”

“Wait.” Hinata pauses. “Tsukishima?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, what the heck? Good! So you’re not dead!”

Did Yamaguchi do what? Kei wants to ask. He ponders on that for a few seconds before he responds. He shakes his head as if to clear the jumbled thoughts that twirl there; there’s no use in speculating, and Kei’s already confused enough as it is. He bends over and pulls the refrigerator door open. The faint light inside fills the kitchen. His stomach rumbles.

“Not dead,” Kei confirms at last. “Did you need something?”

“You’re with Yamaguchi? Don’t get him sick, too! Especially since it’s the weekend!”

“I’m not sick.” Kei cuts off Hinata’s following questions with, “I’ll be at practice tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Why are you answering Yamaguchi’s phone?”

“He’s asleep.”

There’s a cracking sound on the other end of the line and Kei pulls the phone further from his ear. A cacophony of voices react with varying enthusiasm. Kei pulls a soda from the refrigerator and shuts the door. The kitchen is once again swallowed in darkness and he blinks in an attempt to adjust his eyes.

“Where are you?” Kei asks.

“At the park with Tanaka and Noya-san.” There’s a shuffling sound and then Hinata whispers giddily into the receiver, “They have beer.”

There’s an uproar in the background and Kei rolls his eyes.

“They said not to tell you. And then they said not to tell you that they said not to tell you.”

“You’re at the park? It’s nighttime,” Kei says.

“Wha—? It’s not even eight.”

“Shit, really?” Kei pulls Yamaguchi’s phone from his ear again and checks the clock on the top banner of its screen. He then cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder and pops his soda can open.

“Yeah, really. Why the heck is Yamaguchi sleeping?”

“He just is.”

“I guess I’m not surprised,” says Hinata. “Anyway, you guys should come here!”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come on,” he whines.

Kei makes a noncommittal sound.

“Then wake Yama up and give him back his phone so I can tell him to come.”

Kei takes a long sip of his soda and weighs his options, one hand coming to rest on his hip. He’s wide awake anyway and chances are he won’t be able to sleep anytime soon. Not to mention, there’s no school tomorrow and if he goes out, he might be able to get some hot food. His stomach growls once more in agreement. He sighs into the phone and thinks that, if anything, they should go just to babysit Hinata. Kei respects Tanaka and Nishinoya yet also accepts that they are not the purest of influences.

“We’ll be there.”

Kei ends the call before he has to bear Hinata’s shrill squawks of approval. He pauses with his finger over the lock button. He cocks his head and squints down at the home screen of Yamaguchi’s cell phone.

It’s the picture of he and Kei that Hinata took; the one in which Yamaguchi wears Kei’s glasses. In it, Kei looks somewhere off to the side and Yamaguchi stares bright-eyed into the camera with a huge, unabashed grin. Kei feels inexplicably lighter. The icons on the screen cover most of their faces, but the sentiment is there. His heart feels like it could shoot straight through all the layers of muscle and skin of Kei’s chest and—splat!—burst messily all over the clean kitchen floor.

He blinks rapidly when the kitchen is shrouded in bright white light.

“Warn me before you do that,” he complains.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” snickers Yamaguchi. “I can’t find my—”

“Here,” Kei interrupts.

He holds Yamaguchi’s phone across the counter when he comes to stand on the other side of it. Yamaguchi takes it gingerly. His eyes look tired with sleep and he’s put his jacket back on, although it hangs off of one of his shoulders. He looks adorably disheveled. The calm atmosphere that consistently surrounds Yamaguchi matches him best just as he wakes up.

“Hinata called,” Kei continues, “and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Thanks.”

“Nice background,” he tells him.

Yamaguchi grins and slips his phone into his pocket.

“It’s certainly better than yours, Tsukki,” he teases, just a hint of color blooming high on his cheeks. “One of those lame stock photos that comes already downloaded to the phone when you get it.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with mountains. Or sunsets.”

“Of course not, Tsukki.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

“Of course not, Tsukki,” he repeats cheekily.

Kei hums with mock-skepticism. Yamaguchi beams at him. He then comes around the counter to stand next to Kei. He picks Kei’s soda up from the countertop and takes a small sip.

“Why’d Hinata call, anyway?” he asks, voice slightly rough with sleep.

“He’s at the park with Tanaka and Noya-san.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kei answers.

He glances at Yamaguchi from the corner of his eye.

“Want a beer?”

________

 

Yamaguchi and Kei find the others on the edge of the park closest to Nishinoya’s house. The three of them sit in a triangle but move back to accommodate the pair when they walk up. The park is completely empty, as Kei would’ve guessed, especially after the rainstorm earlier on. He slides his hand over the grass to make sure it’s completely dry before he settles between Hinata and Tanaka. The white tin can in the latter’s hand gleams unimpressively under the distant streetlight.

“I can’t believe you guys actually came,” cackles Nishinoya.

“We only came to make sure Hinata doesn’t go overboard.”

“Huh?” Hinata says, whipping his head to look at Yamaguchi. “What d’you mean?”

“The beer?” Kei supplies.

“You’re not drinking any of it, Shouyou?”

Hinata looks absolutely appalled.

“No, I’m not! I don’t wanna die!”

Kei laughs outright. The others look similarly amused.

“We already gave him shit for it,” Tanaka tells them. “Isn’t he the best?”

Kei eyes the two unopened cans nestled in the grass in the very middle of the disjointed circle they’ve formed. Another two reside in Tanaka’s and Nishinoya’s hands for a total of four. Hinata leans into Yamaguchi’s side with his arms wrapped around his knees. Only his fingertips peek out from the sleeves of his green sweatshirt (or it could be navy blue or black; it’s getting too dark outside to tell).

“How’d you get these?” Yamaguchi asks and kicks the toe of sneaker gently against one of the unopened cans.

“My sister gave them to me.”

“How cool is she?” Nishinoya fawns.

“Super cool,” agrees Yamaguchi.

“Want one, Tadashi?”

Nishinoya’s already up on his knees before Yamaguchi even responds. He crawls forward and picks up the beer Yamaguchi had nudged earlier. He holds it out and shakes it enticingly at him with a waggle of his eyebrows, like he thinks that’ll convince him. Apparently it works.

“Yeah, okay,” Yamaguchi shrugs.

“Wait a minute before you open it or it’ll explode,” Kei tells him. “Noya-san shook it.”

“Okay, Tsukki.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Nishinoya insists.

“I didn’t say it was.”

Tanaka nudges him with his elbow. “Tsukishima, you want the last?”

“No. So, four beers, huh? You guys really know how to let loose,” he deadpans.

“This coming from a guy who won’t even have one,” Tanaka shoots back merrily.

Yamaguchi suggests, “You and Hinata should share the last one."

“No way. Who knows where his mouth has been.”

“Oh—oh my god!” Nishinoya sputters and beer dribbles down his chin. “Was that a dirty joke, Tsukishima? That delivery, though!”

“Incredible!” roars Tanaka.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Have the last one if you want it, Ryū. They’re yours, after all.”

“You’ve always got my back, Noya!” Tanaka replies and wipes away a nonexistent tear.

“You know I do, brother!”

They both throw an arm around each other’s shoulders and simultaneously gulp from their cans. Kei thinks the two of them would make a spectacular carnival act. His eyes flit to Yamaguchi, who’s tipping back as well. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Kei looks away. The others begin a rousing discussion of ‘who will be the first one on Karasuno’s volleyball team to lose his hair’ and Kei subsequently zones out.

His eyes return to Yamaguchi and he thinks, how will I break the news to you? And when I do, will I break with it?

Maybe they’ll be walking home together after a late practice, just the two of them. Kei will pull Yamaguchi under the only streetlight that’s lit—inexplicably—because it will be easier for Kei to focus if he only has Yamaguchi and his freckles to look at. Maybe he’ll just see his face and the words will come pouring out, smooth and sweet like honey.

Kei’s only fooling himself, of course. He trips on his words to Yamaguchi already when they’re just in his head. Even the thought of revealing himself makes him feel panicky, like he’s misplaced something crucial. His fingers curl into his palms. Maybe he wants that last beer after all.

“Ennoshita-san, probably,” Kei contributes, rejoining the conversation. “From having to deal with all of your guys’ shit day after day.”

“That’s actually a pretty good point,” notes Nishinoya.

Tanaka nods. “Totally.”

Yamaguchi laughs and moves to sit on his knees. Beer sloshes from the can in his hand and onto Hinata’s sleeve.

“It’s fine. It’s Kageyama’s anyway. Spill more on it if you wanna.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Tanaka jokes and tosses his empty can by Yamaguchi’s feet.

Nishinoya burps loudly before he asks, “Why do you have it?”

“He gave it to me earlier when it was raining. And then I got mad at him, so I just kept it when I left,” shrugs Hinata. He pulls his arms into the body of the sweatshirt and the empty sleeves collapse at his sides. Yamaguchi bumps their shoulders together lightly.

“You’re mad at him? Is that why he’s not here?”

“He’s not here because he stayed late to practice with Yushin,” the redhead huffs.

Kei sighs and wonders if Kageyama has always been so oblivious. Tanaka shuffles in his place on the ground, effectively knocking into Kei’s side, and only straightens when he’s pulled his phone from his pocket. He tap-tap-taps at it and puts it aside approximately four seconds later.

“I just told him to get his ass here,” the ace declares proudly.

“And he has to listen, because you’re his senpai.”

“You’re damn right, Noya.”

“I don’t know if senpai-privileges include making team members flock to an empty park at night to watch you drink beer and gossip about hair loss,” states Kei.

“Then what’s the point of them?” Nishinoya inquires seriously.

“He’ll come,” Tanaka says, but he looks pretty unsure. He snatches his phone up from the ground and adds, “I’ll tell him Hinata’s here. Then he’ll come.”

Yamaguchi nudges Hinata’s shoulder again like, see? Everything is fine, and Hinata gives him a grin that almost looks shy. Yamaguchi turns from him and leans over to pluck Tanaka’s empty can from where it lies like a casualty on the ground. He erects his own empty one next to it on the grass. They stand tall like soldiers in a line. Yamaguchi keeps a cautious hand splayed out toward them until he’s sure they’re stable. Then he sits back.

“Tanaka-senpai,” Kei addresses.

“Hm?” Tanaka hums distractedly. The light from his phone casts an odd purple hue over his face.

“Could I have that last one, please?”

“That’s my boy,” he says in affirmation.

It’s Yamaguchi who scooches forward to get it for him. He hands it across Hinata to Kei and Kei thanks him. They both hold opposite ends of the can for a second like it’s a baton in a relay race.

“Share it?” he asks.

“Sure, Tsukki.”

Kei cracks it open and the sound echoes through the park. He hands it back to Yamaguchi. Nishinoya looks between the two of them with a playful grin.

“Was that you being sweet or were you only asking because you don’t want the whole thing?”

“The former,” Yamaguchi answers and takes the first swig.

Kei squints menacingly at them both but takes the heavy can when Yamaguchi holds it out to him.

“I wonder what Kiyoko-san’s doing right now,” Tanaka says wistfully.

“Me too,” Nishinoya agrees with vigor.

“Probably not thinking about you two.”

Yamaguchi absolutely cackles and Kei brightens with the sound of it. The two third-years chuckle too, and Kei had thought for sure that they were going to go off on him. He’s not the only one who’s changed in the last year.

“Nah, I bet she’s got more important things to do.”

“Well said, Ryū.”

It’s times like these when Kei truly feels like a teenager. Rebelling is not his strong suit—he just doesn’t care enough—but damn it, if he doesn’t feel just a little thrilled at the moment with the frigid sweat of the beer can against his palm. Anyone could happen by their little group on the very edge of the park this evening. Even Ennoshita could walk by (they are close to the school, after all) and kick all of their asses. As vice captain, Yamaguchi probably shouldn’t condone this behavior from his teammates. Kei thinks about mentioning this but just raises the cold can to his lips instead. It tastes appalling and Kei feels just that little bit more alive.

He wants to chase this feeling. He glances at Yamaguchi in the near-darkness and finds his hand outstretched towards his own. Kei hands over the beer with a small, private grin. The taste of it lingers on his tongue.

It reminds him of the glass of wine his aunt gave him when he was thirteen. It was purely poor judgement on her part. Kei doesn’t blame her in the slightest. He didn’t ever mention it to his mom, but he didn’t see a lot of his aunt after that visit. She had recently divorced his uncle and the stress of it all left deep lines in her face and lead weight in her very bones. He absently wonders how she is these days. He honestly hopes she’s doing better, as nostalgia paints even the foggiest memories in false gold. Perhaps he’ll ask his mother.

“Yamaguchi, is that the north star?”

“I’m not sure. But that one doesn’t look bright enough.”

“Help me find it.”

“Okay. Put your hand down, Shouyou, I need a clear view.”

Kei doesn’t remember much about the aftermath of his own parents’ divorce. His dad had fucked off right after the papers were signed, or so Kei thinks (he was only six at the time). Kei often goes out of his way to not think about it. The loss of something once so familiar and constant digs out a hollow pit in his stomach. He thinks of losing Yamaguchi, and what that would do to him. But he won’t allow himself to ponder on those outcomes—not anymore.

His mother was right. He and Yamaguchi are not Kei’s parents. They’re not his aunt or his uncle. They’re not any of the moronic couples they go to school with and they’re not characters in a melodrama whose predictable futures are played out for hundreds and thousands of expectant eyes. They’re not surface-level.

Kei is fairly positive that the good, the golden, the glowing aspects of he and Yamaguchi together would outweigh even the bad, the imperfect, the unfortunate.

“Hey,” Kageyama pants, emerging from the trees like a goddamn ghost.

All five teenagers start at the sound. Hinata and Yamaguchi even let out shrill shrieks and cling to each other in their fright.

“K-Kageyama?” Hinata asks, squinting past the third-years.

“Yeah?” he answers, doubling over. “Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know. A freaking serial killer?”

“Seriously, why would you come from there instead of following the path?” Kei implores flatly.

“It was faster this way.”

“Why are you panting?” Tanaka asks, leaning back on his hands.

“I ran here.”

Hinata pipes up, “From the school gym?”

Kageyama blinks. “I was at home, Hinata.”

“Well, pop a squat. We're out of beer,” Tanaka tells him.

Kageyama makes his way around the circle and shimmies between Kei and Hinata without even waiting for Kei to shove over. Hinata looks pleased at the intrusion and finally releases Yamaguchi from his clutches.

“Beer?” the setter repeats. He turns to Hinata and says, “You drank a beer? I don’t believe it.”

“Then you’re right for once, because I didn’t,” snaps the redhead.

“Dumbass, for once?” Kageyama barks.

Hinata makes an affirmative sound and shifts closer to him. Kageyama swings his leg to Hinata’s other side and Hinata settles between them. Kei sort of feels like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, or something that he formerly thought didn’t actually exist—like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. A glance at Yamaguchi proves he’s similarly nonplussed. He shakes the expression from his face when he sees Kei staring. Kei’s knee digs into Kageyama’s thigh when he leans across the conglomerate of he and Hinata to press the now lukewarm beer can into Yamaguchi’s awaiting palm.

Hinata chirps, “That’s what I said!”

“I’m right a lot of the time.”

“Oh yeah?” he snorts. “Like when?”

“Like every single time I call you a dumbass?”

Kei chuckles. “He’s got you there.”

“Tsukishima, cut me some slack!”

“Impossible,” Kei responds flatly.

Tanaka comments, “I don’t think he knows the meaning of that phrase.”

“If Tsukishima ever finds a girlfriend, I’ll run naked through this park three times in broad daylight,” claims Nishinoya.

“Then go ahead and do it, Noya-san,” Kei says with a roll of his eyes.

“Please,” Yamaguchi interjects, “Tsukki has probably gotten more confessions than the rest of us combined.”

“You been counting, Yamaguchi?” Kageyama asks and juts his head forward to rest his chin on Hinata’s shoulder. Kageyama’s arms come around him and he rests his hands in the kangaroo pocket of Hinata’s—technically his own—sweatshirt.

“Nope. I said probably, didn’t I?” Yamaguchi responds airily.

“Enough,” Kei orders with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You still have my jacket?” Kageyama asks Hinata offhandedly.

Hinata huffs, “So what if I do?”

“Nothing. I just noticed.”

Tanaka changes the subject, “You know, Kageyama, Noya says he thinks you’ll go bald by the time you’re forty.”

“Noya-san!”

“I’m sorry, Kageyama! But it’s only because your hair’s so silky now!”

“How does that follow?” asks Kei.

“Well, it’s like he’s got all the hair-related luck as a teenager. It can’t possibly follow him through adulthood, right? That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Kei squints at him.

“I beg of you, Nishinoya, please pick up a book.”

Kageyama interjects, “You think my hair is silky?”

“Totally.”

“Thank you, Noya-san.”

“Doesn’t hair grow even after you’re dead?” Yamaguchi inquires, moving forward to add he and Kei’s empty beer to the line of cans he’s formed by his feet.

“That’s a myth.”

“Oh yeah, Tsukki?”

“Is it really?” Kageyama supplements.

“Yeah. The matrices of cells that divide to make hair strands longer need oxygen to burn the glucose that—”

Nishinoya lets out a long, pained moan. Kei turns from Yamaguchi to glare at him.

Tanaka laughs, “Same, man. I need about six more beers if you’re going to keep talking like that.”

“My point is,” Kei continues, “after your heart stops beating, your body no longer pumps the oxygen necessary to—”

“So help me, Tsukishima,” Nishinoya pleads.

Kei shrugs. “They asked.”

_______

 

“How do you feel?”

“Good. Fine. A little warm, maybe.”

Kei and Yamaguchi walk so close that their arms nearly brush with every other step.

“What about you?”

Kei looks askance at him and replies, “The same.”

Yamaguchi chirps a bright laugh.

“I think you could have ten beers and still be in total control, Tsukki.”

“I don’t think I’ll be testing that theory any time soon.”

“If I managed to get ten beers, would you drink them with me?” Yamaguchi asks.

“How would you manage that, exactly?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a hypothetical.”

Kei shrugs back. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Probably, Tadashi.”

Despite feeling warm, Yamaguchi still holds his jacket tightly around himself. Early spring nights are a total toss-up, temperature-wise. Kei feels content in his sweatshirt, but would give it to Yamaguchi if he asked. He curls his lip up. What a cliché, he thinks rebukingly.

“What’s that face for, Tsukki?”

“I was just thinking about clichés.”

“Oh,” says Yamaguchi, “like kissing in the rain?”

“Yeah,” Kei responds after a moment.

He waits for Yamaguchi to list more but Yamaguchi stops after that. Kei thinks how cruel it would be if it started raining right now. Yamaguchi gains a hop in his step and Kei adjusts his pace to accommodate him.

“Did you see how Kageyama and Shouyou were sitting?”

“Yes.”

“That was pretty surprising!”

“Yet not so much at the same time.”

Yamaguchi makes a thoughtful sound.

“Must be nice to sit like that with someone,” he comments wistfully, “all close and comfortable…”

Kei nods. He agrees wholeheartedly, but with only one person in mind.

“You think so too, Tsukki?”

“Perhaps.”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi sighs. Kei chances a glance at him.

“You can sit that way with Matsuda-san,” Kei mentions.

Yamaguchi shakes his head. “She’s smaller than me, so she’d be in front. She’d be the one with my chin on her shoulder.”

Kei despises the visual. He grits his teeth and asks, “So?”

“So,” Yamaguchi repeats, “maybe I want to be the one in front.”

“You want the chin on your shoulder.”

Yamaguchi swings his arm, bringing his palm up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Maybe I do.”

Really, when did any aspect of Kageyama and Hinata’s relationship become either Kei or Yamaguchi’s goal? Kei sighs. He wants to rest his chin on Yamaguchi’s shoulder and have his back against his chest, but he wants sitting positions of their own, too. He wants to sit hip-to-hip with their touching legs bent together. He wants to sit with his legs crossed and have Yamaguchi on his lap, and maybe Kei’d rest his forehead between Yamaguchi’s shoulder-blades. It doesn’t matter how they’d sit, truly, because any way would be close, and it would be comfortable. Just like Kei—just like Yamaguchi—wants it. He nearly vibrates at the thought.

“Tsukki?”

“What?”

“Did you ever start writing that good traits list?”

Kei watches his feet as they walk.

“Not yet,” he answers. “Why?”

“Just thinking about it,” lilts Yamaguchi.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You should’ve asked all the guys tonight. They could’ve helped you out, too.”

Kei gives a pitiful laugh. “No way.”

“Why not?” Yamaguchi asks distractedly, looking up at the moon.

“Because.”

“I thought that beer would’ve loosened your tongue, if anything,” he huffs.

Kei rolls his eyes and follows Yamaguchi’s gaze upward. His eyes flit between the brightest stars.

“If I ever start a bad traits list, they’ll be the first people I ask.”

Yamaguchi hums. “I don’t think they’d help you out much.”

Kei looks to Yamaguchi, his brow furrowing. He stops walking.

“You’re too nice to me,” he tells Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi halts his steps as well. He meets Kei’s gaze and smiles slowly.

“No such thing as too nice to Tsukki,” he replies.

Kei rips his eyes from Yamaguchi’s face, afraid that if they linger too long, Yamaguchi will see the absolute love that resides there. He takes a tentative step in the direction they head. Yamaguchi follows suit and they begin to make their way down the road once more. Yamaguchi’s small house can be seen in the distance, its red door illuminated under the faint porch light. He feels Yamaguchi’s eyes on him. He senses the soft smile that remains on his lips.

“You better not start a bad traits list,” Yamaguchi reprimands.

“I won’t.”

“Because the team won’t help you out with it. Least of all me.”

“If you say so,” Kei responds dismissively.

“You know they all like you, right, Tsukki?”

Kei’s eyes grow wide and he hunches his shoulders instinctually.

Yamaguchi continues softly, “You’re their friend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kei says, keeping his head down.

“Hey. I’m serious.”

“Okay. Alright.”

Yamaguchi stares at him with big eyes for another few seconds before he bursts into melodic laughter.

“Sorry, Tsukki. I got too serious there, huh? Didn’t I, Tsukki?”

“Maybe,” Kei says, his ears heating up with a blush.

“But I meant it, Tsukki.”

“O-kay, Tadashi,” he responds desperately.

“Okay. I’ll shut up about it.”

Kei gives him a slight, grateful nod.

“Can you point out some constellations for me, please?”

“Sure, Tadashi.”

Notes:

please enjoy the 8tracks playlist i made for this fic. love you guys.

Chapter 14: grow flowers from where dirt used to be

Notes:

title comes from kate nash's 'merry happy'. happy reading!

His nerves very rarely get to him, but Kei still can’t imagine being a pinch server. The crowd quiets when Yamaguchi stands before the line. Kei listens intently from his place at the net.

Two bounces, two steps, two squeaks of Yamaguchi’s shoes on the hardwood and then the volleyball floats over Kei’s head. It wobbles in the air and several pairs of wide eyes flick around in an attempt to follow it. The ball hits the ground with a thud, the third-year libero on his knees a good few feet away. A sound twice as loud as the falling volleyball reverberates through the gym when the guy pounds his fist to the glossy floor in frustration.

Kei smirks. It’s a perfect service ace. The opposing team didn’t stand a chance.

Three more of those wins them the game, and Karasuno marches from the gym victorious. Ennoshita carries Yamaguchi all the way to the changing room on his shoulders. The other third-years circle around them with hoots and hollers. Hinata and Kageyama trail behind them, walking a ways away from one another. Kei raises an eyebrow at Hinata. The other middle blocker won’t meet his eyes.

“Timing,” Kageyama emphasizes as the team changes out of their jerseys. “Timing, timing, timing. Do you get that? Do you get that, dumbass Hinata?”

“Kag—”

“You jump before the spiker’s even in position when you get too excited like that.”

“I know what timing is, Kageyama.”

“I don’t think you do. Ask Tsukishima.”

Kei glances at Hinata’s flushed face. His eyes are big, his mouth shut tight in a rigid line. Kei turns away and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

“We won,” Kei drones, “so what does it matter?”

“Just be sure to keep an eye on the spiker and try to calculate their jumping power,” declares Yushin from across the room.

“Yushin’s right,” booms Kageyama.

Hinata flinches, his arms stiffening at his sides. Next to him, Yamaguchi stills.

“I know he’s right. Who the heck do you think taught him that in the first place?” Hinata retorts.

“Not you, apparently. Before you teach something you’re supposed to know it for yourself, dumbass!”

Kei turns around to place his folded jersey in his bag and that’s when he sees it.

Yushin’s smirk.

The first-year is hunched over, unlacing his shoes, his blond hair fallen into his face. But Kei still sees it; that wide, smug, shit-eating grin at Hinata’s expense. Kei halts. His jersey feels heavy in his hand.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Hinata stutters out a syllable and follows Kei’s gaze to Yushin. Yushin quickly surveys the room, undoubtedly looking for the third-years. But they’ve already gone. It’s Kei’s turn to smirk.

“Tsu-Tsukishima-senpai?”

“Shut up,” Kei requests coolly. He points a finger at Kageyama and continues, “Whenever he yells at Hinata, you get this dopey goddamn lovey-dovey look on your face.”

“Calm down, Tsukki—”

“I’m calm, Yamaguchi. I’m just asking him a question.”

“No, you’re not,” scolds Yamaguchi.

Kei ignores him. His fingers clench into the jersey in his hand, crumpling the fabric. His grip is tight. It will leave wrinkles.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t…” Yushin trails off.

“You don’t know? You don’t know why the hell you do that? Because I do,” Kei rambles, “and so does Hinata. And your vice captain. Kageyama is quite literally the only one who doesn’t. Imagine that, huh?”

Kei raises an eyebrow in amusement when Yushin bows.

“I-I’m sorry!” the first-year claims.

Kageyama wonders aloud, “I don’t what?”

“He f—”

Yamaguchi intercepts with, “Tsukishima.”

That grabs Kei’s attention quicker than anything, even Yamaguchi’s cold hand clenched around his bicep. He stops short. The other two first-years try to subtly shuffle away like they think Kei will address them too (as if he gives two shits about them—what are their names again?).

Kei rips his arm from Yamaguchi and stomps over to Kageyama.

“Of the two of you, you’re the fucking dumbass,” Kei sneers, right in his face.

He turns on his heel and lets his wadded-up jersey fall from his hand into his volleyball bag. Kei swings the strap over his shoulder and calmly exits the room, throwing one last glower towards a quaking Yushin.

Rain falls in heavy sheets from the late afternoon sky. Kei makes no move to take out his umbrella. He just lets it soak him, dripping from his blond bangs and onto the lenses of his glasses. The moisture presses heavily into the cloth of his jacket. It sloshes around his ankles when he steps in particularly deep puddles.

He’s halfway home when Yamaguchi catches up to him.

“Don’t run,” Kei calls, but Yamaguchi either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t listen.

He knocks the wind out of Kei when he slides bodily into his torso. Kei sputters and doubles over.

“I said not to run,” he coughs.

“Nice receive,” says Yamaguchi with a cheeky grin.

“Next time I’ll just let you fall.”

“No you won’t, Tsukki.”

Kei recovers and takes his glasses off to shake the raindrops from them; a futile act.

“Where’s your umbrella?” he asks.

“Where’s yours?” Yamaguchi fires back.

Kei hums. “Is Kageyama pissed off?”

“I don’t think so. He just looked confused. So I herded the first-years out of there—I’m pretty sure Yushin pissed himself—and left him and Shouyou there to come find you.”

Kei looks to the pavement.

“Sorry.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Going off on the first-year.”

Yamaguchi chirps a laugh. “Are you kidding, Tsukki? Maybe now he’ll finally back off.”

Kei blinks when water drips off his bangs and into his eye. He removes his glasses once more and lets them dangle from his fingers by his hip.

“But you seemed pretty mad back there.”

“Did I?”

“You called me by my name.”

“Yeah, well, I’m vice captain now,” Yamaguchi states, jabbing his thumb at himself. “I have to at least act like I can keep some semblance of order in Ennoshita-san’s absence, Tsukishima.”

“Stop that.”

“Tsukki…”

Yamaguchi pauses and Kei squints at him suspiciously.

“…shima!”

“You’re so weird,” Kei insists. Cute, he corrects in his head. You’re so cute.

“Sorry, Tsukki. Can we start walking again? I’m getting soaked.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

He leans forward and uses Yamaguchi’s drenched jacket sleeve to wipe his lenses. It’s completely fruitless, but maybe he just wanted to be that much closer to him. When he puts them back on, Yamaguchi looks like a mosaic painting.

“You look like a mosaic.”

“So romantic,” Yamaguchi jests. “Just leave them off, Tsukki.”

“But I can’t see.”

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes—at least Kei thinks he does—and gently pulls the glasses from his face. His breath ghosting over Kei’s face is the only warmth he feels in the downpour, and it’s only for a second. Yamaguchi folds Kei’s glasses and sticks them delicately in his pocket.

“Now I really can’t see.”

“Your eyes—ah,” Yamaguchi breathes. Kei barely hears him over the rain.

“What about them?” he asks, suddenly just as breathless.

Yamaguchi glances at his distorted reflection on the wet pavement.

“They’re, uh—they’re just pretty.”

Kei’s face heats up. His heart bounces around in his chest.

“Yamaguchi.”

He winces like he’s about to be scolded. “What?”

“I think you need a new adjective.”

Yamaguchi blankly stares at Kei for half a second before a smile nearly cracks his face in two.

“Let’s go home.”

“Agreed, Tsukki. About both parts.”

“I need my glasses b—”

Kei sucks in a breath when Yamaguchi slides their hands together.

“I’ll lead you.”

Their palms are slick from the rain. Yamaguchi’s hands are even colder than usual, but Kei doesn’t care. He feels so warm. Their fingers aren’t interlaced, though, and Kei wonders if he should try for that. But he’s already overwhelmed at the current contact. His lurching heart beats embarrassingly loud in his ears. It almost wins out over the chaotic rainfall.

Yamaguchi pulls him along, staying just a pace ahead to keep up the facade of actually leading. Kei wishes he’d just stay at his side. When Yamaguchi tightens his grip on Kei’s hand for a moment, Kei squeezes back. The rain seeps into his shoes. It pulls his drenched clothes from his thin frame.

But the campfire in his chest keeps Kei warm. He wishes they’d taken the long way home.

“Celestial,” Yamaguchi says.

“What?”

Yamaguchi’s pulled him under the awning of his front porch even though the rain had finally stopped. He stares up at Kei, his bangs and cowlick plastered to his forehead. Kei plucks his glasses from Yamaguchi’s pocket and returns them to his face so he can see him clearly. Yamaguchi’s wet face shines in the light that escapes the front window of the house. His freckles twinkle.

“Celestial,” he repeats. He goes on, “Gorgeous, captivating.”

“Tada—“

“Ethereal.”

Kei furrows his brow. Yamaguchi’s honest and open gaze on him doesn’t falter.

“Your eyes,” he clarifies. “Those are my new adjectives.”

Kei wants to melt right there on Yamaguchi’s front walk and join all of the other puddles that have formed there over the last hour. Yamaguchi spins around and disappears into his house. Kei remains there for a minute like he’ll fall over if he moves. He presses the hand Yamaguchi’d held to his chest.

“I’m in love with you,” Kei tells Yamaguchi’s red front door.

He walks home smiling.

_________

 

Hinata grabs Kei on the walk from his classroom to practice the next day—literally grabs him, leaping onto his back and clinging to him like bark to a tree.

“Tsukishima!” Hinata sings.

Kei struggles only for the slightest moment to keep himself upright. Carrying Hinata is like carrying a handful of feathers, although feathers don’t dig sharp, bony elbows into Kei’s shoulder-blades.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get off.”

“Hurry up and grab my legs, I’m gonna fall!”

Kei swings his arms back to support him and makes an exasperated sound.

“To the volleyball gym, mighty steed.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Hey, um, for real though,” Hinata says, his tone soft. “I wanna say thank you.”

Kei turns his head to glance at Hinata who leans over his right shoulder. His glasses slipped down his nose a little when he ambushed him and if Kei lets go to adjust them, the redhead will probably plummet to the tile floor of the hallway.

“For what?”

“For sticking up for me back there. In the club room yesterday, you know.”

Kei looks forward. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure,” Hinata lilts, drumming his fingers playfully on Kei’s shoulders.

“I just don’t like Yushin. He’s annoying.”

“Right, right,” Hinata plays along.

There’s a pause as Kei pushes the door to the outside open with his hip and walks them through it.

“…Thanks, Tsukishima.”

“Whatever.”

“Kageyama’s pretty pissed off at you, though.”

“Great,” Kei deadpans, “that’s an added bonus.”

“Though I told him he shouldn’t be. It’s his own fault for being dumb. I mean, if you hadn’t mentioned it, who knows how long he would’ve stayed oblivious?”

“You could have said something to him sooner.”

Hinata sighs right in Kei’s ear.

“It’s hard.”

Kei gets it. He could spin epics from the threads of difficult words he’s kept from Yamaguchi.

“I know,” he sympathizes.

“But, you know, Tsukishima, he kissed me after everyone left the club room.”

“Spare me the details.”

“It wasn’t just one kiss,” Hinata rambles on over his shoulder, “it was like, a lot of them. In a row. I mean, I thought just that one was good when it first happened but then he was like whoosh! Another one for you, Shouyou! And I was like, okay Tobio, then take this—mwah!”

“Christ,” Kei groans, “don’t you have a diary or something?”

“I just thought you’d want to know the fruits of your labor!”

“You? Had a thought?”

Hinata chirps a laugh and smacks his palm hard and quick between Kei’s shoulders.

“I know you’re happy for me and Kageyama,” he says, “because if you weren’t going to be, you wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. But I appreciate your very Tsukishima-like effort to stay aloof.”

Kei cracks at that, a very small smile ghosting over his lips. He hopes his friend catches it.

“This is the only piggyback ride you will ever, ever get from me, Hinata.”

“Got it. Is it a congratulatory piggyback ride?”

“If you think it is, then it is.”

Hinata beams. “It totally is, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

Nishinoya and Tanaka intercept them when they turn the corner to the gym.

“We thought about waiting and jumping out to scare you,” says Tanaka, “but Noya was afraid you’d drop Hinata on his ass. And then we were afraid Kageyama would beat us up for bruising something so precious to him.”

“Hey!”

“So you guys heard,” Kei concludes.

“Noya-san is an incorrigible gossip,” Tanaka says merrily.

Nishinoya shrugs at Kei. “It’s true. Go on, ask me something. About anyone in the school.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Hey, Mamiko-kun!” shouts Hinata and Kei turns.

“Miko!” Nishinoya contributes.

Mamiko walks towards them with a wave. She opens her mouth like she’s about to call out but promptly shuts it when she makes eye contact with Kei. She halts in place. Kei stares at her blankly, an odd moment dragging on between them. He blinks when she curls her lip up in distaste. She bares her white teeth and for a slight second Kei thinks she might charge him.

Mamiko turns abruptly around, skirt spinning around her legs like a top, and walks away.

Hinata finally drops from his back and Kei’s arms fall to hang at his sides. The girl disappears around the corner. Kei brings his hand up to work out the slight kinks in his shoulder and Nishinoya whirls around to face him, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“What the shit?!” he voices.

“That was cold,” Tanaka agrees. “I mean, I guess she’s not really obligated to talk to us anymore, but still. I thought she liked you well enough, man. Did you say something to her?”

What the hell would I say to her? Kei thinks.

“Not a word,” he answers.

“Yeah. Chicks are an enigma.”

“Wait," orders Kei. "What are you talking about, obligated?”

Tanaka puts his hands on his hips and stares at the corner Mamiko had turned behind.

“I mean, I know she’s not dating Yamaguchi anymore but I thought she’d at least—”

“What?”

“Huh?” Nishinoya pipes up. “You didn’t know that?”

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be like, besties?” chides Tanaka.

“When?” Kei blurts.

“When what?”

“When did she break up with him?”

“Try the other way around. And sometime this morning,” Nishinoya informs him.

Kei’s heart pumps a frantic rhythm in his chest. If Hinata was still on his back, he certainly would have dropped him by now. Kei needlessly adjusts his glasses in an attempt to appear casual.

“He broke up with her?”

Nishinoya misinterprets his tone entirely.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I said, Tsukishima. Between us, I think Yamaguchi’s taken too many volleyballs to the head. She’s cute!”

Tanaka agrees, “Totally cute.”

“Hey! Don’t be like that, you guys,” Hinata says. That’s when Kei realizes he’s been awfully silent on the matter. “Yamaguchi’s real cute too!”

You all have no idea, Kei thinks fondly.

“You know we didn’t mean it like that, Shouyou!”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Hinata and Kageyama get together yesterday and those two split up today. Maybe it’s some kind of curse,” muses Tanaka.

Nishinoya’s eyes go wide. “A curse?”

“Yeah, like, when one couple gets together, another must break up.”

“Maybe our school’s haunted!” he frets.

Tanaka taps at his chin in deep thought. “So who’ll be the next break-up victims?”

“It won’t be me and Kageyama,” Hinata professes proudly.

“It sure won’t, pal. Now come on, practice is gonna start soon.”

Tanaka claps Kei on the back and he and Nishinoya take off back toward the gym. Kei waits until they’ve gone inside before he immediately whirls on Hinata, who looks like he’s just been caught in the crosshairs.

“You know something,” Kei dictates.

Hinata flinches so hard he nearly leaps from the ground.

“N-no I don’t!”

“You know something. Tell me.”

“I don’t know anything! Isn’t that what you’re always telling me, anyway?!”

Kei squints. “Why did they break up?”

“Shit, Tsukishima,” Hinata swears uncharacteristically, “I don’t know!”

“Then why didn’t he tell me?” Kei mutters, more to himself than anyone.

“Get your asses in gear, please!”

The two second-years whip their heads to see Ennoshita peeking out of the gym doorway. Kei gives him an affirmative wave and the captain’s tired face retreats. Kei turns back and watches Hinata suspiciously for a minute. Hinata holds his gaze, brown eyes big and concerned. Eventually, Kei sighs and turns toward the gym. Hinata skitters on his heels.

 

Notes:

an incredible comic was drawn for one of the scenes in this chapter.

why are you guys so awesome? how??

Chapter 15: closer and closer

Kei feels like he has short-circuited. During practice, he only manages half-thoughts and half-assed blocks. The team calls him out a few times for it but he doesn’t care. He just wants to talk to Yamaguchi, but he’s anxious over it and can’t pinpoint precisely why. Kei can hardly focus near the end of the day when he practices synchronized attacks with the third-years.

“Tsukki? Where are you?”

Yamaguchi stands in the doorway of the gym, the pink sunset outside donning him with a halo of light. Kei looks around to find himself alone.

“We’re starting our final run,” Yamaguchi tells him. “Are you alright?”

Kei nods and follows him out. When their laps are completed, everyone collapses on the grass outside the gym. The third-years lie in a star-shape and the first-years have slumped into a quasi-triangle. Hinata lies across Kageyama’s stomach to make a sort of cross. They all face upward, watching the orange clouds slide across the sherbet sky. The late afternoon seems to linger far too long; Kei feels it should be night already. He stands from his hunched position and secures a spot on the grass further away from the team, knowing Yamaguchi will follow.

Celestial. Gorgeous, captivating, Kei thinks as they stare at each other. Ethereal.

“How are you?” he asks slowly.

“Fine. Tired,” Yamaguchi pants. “I think I might barf up my lungs.”

Kei rolls his eyes and pulls his sports glasses around his neck. He leans back on his hands and pulls his knees up, his feet flat on the grass. Yamaguchi pushes his kneepads down around his ankles and mirrors Kei’s position.

“Not that. You broke up.”

“Wha—?”

Yamaguchi furrows his brow for a long second and Kei understands his confusion; he did kind of word that weirdly. But he’s not sure how else to phrase it. You broke up with Matsuda-san—tell me why, dammit. Does it have something to do with me? Does it, Tadashi? Realization soon smooths over Yamaguchi’s face and his eyes avoid Kei’s.

“Yeah. We broke up.”

“I know that part, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi scuffs his shoe against the ground. “How?”

“Tanaka-senpai told me. It certainly wasn’t you.”

Yamaguchi winces and replies, “Sorry, Tsukki.”

He only looks up when Kei shakes his head.

“No,” Kei says, “I am.”

“What?” Yamaguchi asks softly.

Kei returns his goggles to his face and shrugs. A bird lands on the grass a couple yards from them and both boys watch it disinterestedly. Kei shrugs a second time.

“Break-ups are hard,” he says.

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow at him like he wants to ask how the hell Kei would know but he’s too polite. The moment is fragile. Kei thinks of the glass of wine his aunt poured him, so full that a couple of drops had slid over the sides when she pushed it his way across the kitchen table. He thinks of his mother raising him and his brother all on her own, and the strength that must have taken—is still taking.

He thinks of his own stupid rules, his fruitless and painful efforts to keep Yamaguchi at arm’s length. But those are gone. Kei wants so much more from him now and the unrestricted feeling overwhelms him so tremendously that he could cry. The boundaries were familiar. The boundaries were safe. But now Kei feels like he’s in a free fall.

He claws up grass and dirt when he curls his fingers into his palms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks.

Yamaguchi leans forward off of his hands and swings his arms up to fold around his knees.

“I thought you’d think I was pathetic.”

Kei rubs his dirty palm on his kneepad. The loose dirt tints the black fabric a light brown and Kei stares at the stain for a second, debating. Then he moves his long arm across the distance between he and Yamaguchi. Only his fingertips reach Yamaguchi’s bare knee. He holds them there for a minute.

“I won’t ever think that.”

Kei’s eyes only dart from his own sneakers when he feels Yamaguchi’s warm, puffing breaths on his knuckles. Yamaguchi’s chin sits upon his knee and he stares down so squarely at Kei’s fingertips on his skin that it almost looks like he’s closed his eyes. Kei swallows his heart as it tries to leap through his throat. He lets his arm fall back to his side.

“See, you say that, but…” Yamaguchi trails off.

“But what?” Kei prompts after a deep breath. “Tadashi, why would I think you were—”

“Time to stretch! You guys are the last ones in, as always,” Ennoshita calls from the gym doors.

They hadn’t even noticed the others leaving. Yamaguchi stands up first and helps Kei to his feet. Kei throws one more look over his shoulder at the pretty pink sky. The next time he walks outside, it’ll be dyed a dark blue. The two walk into the gym, Kei’s question still aching to leave his lips.

He doesn’t bring it up again that night.

_______

 
“Are you getting anything?” Kei asks as he and Yamaguchi roam Sakanoshita. Kei only wants a soda, but Yamaguchi walks him up and down every aisle anyway.

“I don’t think so, Tsukki.”

“It’s on me.”

Yamaguchi quirks an eyebrow up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’m okay, Tsukki.”

“Are you sure?” Kei asks again.

Yamaguchi nods and Kei sets his can on the front counter. He eyes the colorful bin of flavored lollipops by the register. A woman with a grey ponytail rings him up and Kei looks over to Yamaguchi once more.

“Last chance,” he says.

“You don’t have to coddle me, you know. I’m really not that sad.”

“Huh?” Kei grunts. “Coddle?”

“Yeah.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he responds coolly.

Kei plucks Yamaguchi’s favorite flavor of lollipop—cherry—from the bin and drops it on the counter.

Yamaguchi sticks the balled-up candy wrapper in Kei’s pocket as they walk to school even though he has perfectly functional pockets of his own. He would have bought Yamaguchi one hundred lollipops if he’d wanted them, and not just because Kei would do that any day for the sole reason that he loves him, but because he’s not quite sure how else to let Yamaguchi know he’s here for him after what’s happened. Kei can tell Yamaguchi isn’t lying when he says he’s not too torn up about his break-up (after all, it was Yamaguchi who made the decision, wasn’t it?).

Kei still waits for Yamaguchi to give him a reason. But he’s not sure how to bring it up again.

A thought occurs to him as they pass through the school gates.

“Will you and Mamiko stay friends?”

Yamaguchi laughs softly and scratches at his neck.

“I, uh, I don’t think so, Tsukki. I don’t think she wants to be.”

Kei blinks. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Not everyone wants to be my friend, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, and Kei can’t tell if his tone is self-deprecating or accusatory.

“She walked off as soon as she saw me yesterday.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes go wide and color blossoms on his cheeks. Kei furrows his brow at him. I’m missing something, he realizes as he watches Yamaguchi’s face change, what aren’t you telling me, Tadashi? But Kei’s not really one to point fingers about leaving things unsaid.

“Did—did she say anything to you?”

“No,” Kei answers. “What would she say?”

The class bell sounds and the clusters of students around them instantly spring into motion. Yamaguchi looks like he’s just been given a death pardon. Curiosity spins uneasy webs in Kei’s chest as they head to their classroom.

_______

 
Words upon words upon words are strung in a tight, tangled knot in his head. He’s not sure how to present them to Yamaguchi in a way that is appropriate and convincing and honest. Kei wants to be dead honest.

But he’s already both built his bridges and burned them down. He can feel the empty matchbox in his pocket. He’s not sure how to bring it up; that he doesn’t want to be Yamaguchi’s friend; that he wants to be more. He wants to pull a bazooka from hammerspace and blast through the walls he’s built between them right in front of Yamaguchi’s eyes. Then they’d make out on the rubble. Kei’s imagined his confession several times over, during practice, during class, on their walks home from school—all the time.

It’s been three days since Yamaguchi broke up with Mamiko, and Kei still doesn’t know why.

He’d like to believe that Yamaguchi would be thrilled when Kei tells him: I love you, like, I love-love you and sorry I didn’t let you love me back until now. You do, right? You do love me now, don’t you? Say you still do. I haven’t missed my window, have I, Tadashi? Tell me I’m still your favorite.

But there’s this gnawing feeling in his stomach like the constant butterflies Yamaguchi creates there are trying to dig their way out. Kei just can’t shake the feeling of potential doom; of Yamaguchi’s already-sharp eyes forming into slits and his freckled face darkening with frustration when he tells him. Kei is petrified of making him angry like the night he cried to his mother.

Don’t say shit like that to me.

Kei can’t shake the feeling of inadequacy.

How did I ever think he could possibly be just my friend? Kei wonders as he subtly watches Yamaguchi change into his jersey. He blinks away when the fabric falls over the splash of freckles across Yamaguchi’s shoulders.

“Check that out!”

“Hinata, dumbass,” Kageyama sputters, “don’t show it to them.”

Kei turns around to see Hinata pull the left leg of his shorts up to reveal a small, purple bruise. Yamaguchi snorts and covers his gaping mouth with his hand when he sees it.

“It’s just Yamaguchi and Tsukishima!”

“I don’t care who it is!”

“That’s a hickey!” Yamaguchi marvels.

“I know, Yama, I know!” Hinata chirps proudly.

“Jesus,” Yamaguchi continues, “on his thigh, Kageyama?”

“I underestimated you,” Kei tells the setter.

Kageyama huffs, stomping across the changing room to the stand in the doorway. Kei is only slightly envious. How soft would Yamaguchi’s skin be under Kei’s lips and teeth?

“I’ve got four,” Hinata happily informs them.

“Stupid, you’re counting?”

“Are you not?”

Kageyama huffs once more and storms into the crowded hallway of Sendai, mumbling under his breath. Hinata beams and looks back and forth between Kei and Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi and Hinata then step toward each other and high-five with both hands. The sharp clap is loud in the tiny room.

“That’s awesome, Shouyou.”

“So hot, right?!”

“Totally.”

“There’s also one on my—”

“No,” Kei interrupts.

“Relax, Tsukishima! I was just gonna say my—“

“No, no, no.”

Hinata barks a laugh and grabs Yamaguchi by the wrist.

“I’ll tell you later, Yamaguchi.”

“Sounds good,” Yamaguchi says with a grin. “Don’t forget to turn the light off when you guys are done.”

The changing room door clicks shut behind him and Kei watches it for a few seconds after he’s gone. He looks down and zips up his bag. Hinata hums a joyous tune and shrugs into his black jacket, but goes silent when Kei speaks up.

“Do you know why Yamaguchi broke up with Matsuda-san?”

Hinata looks at him with his big brown eyes and shifts his weight from foot to foot. He looks like he’s deciding whether or not to lie.

“Yeah…”

Kei clenches his teeth. He takes a deep breath.

“Yamaguchi hasn’t told me. I don’t understand,” he confesses quietly.

“I’m sure he will. Eventually, y’know.”

“Why did he tell you and not me, Hinata?”

Hinata shuffles around his bag on the floor and sits on far side of the bench in the center of the room.

“He’s my friend.”

“He’s my best friend,” Kei replies evenly.

Hinata looks down and kicks his sneakers against the floor. Kei winces in irritation when they squeak. Hinata shoots him a quick glance before his eyes return to his shoes.

“You’re pretty insistent about that, huh?” Hinata asks, very softly.

Kei glares at the floor. “What?”

“Being his friend.”

Again, Hinata’s voice is terribly soft—a breath of wind rustling through lush, jade grass.

There’s a pause. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kei looks at Hinata to find him already staring back. His eyes are wide with despondency (or is it pity?). They say, drop the front, Stingyshima, it’s just us here. Kei wonders how it is possible for him to feel simultaneously relieved and uneasy. He sits down on the opposite end of the bench.

“Friendships don’t end like relationships do,” he says slowly.

“What are you talking about?” Hinata asks. “Friendships end all the time.”

“Not in the same way that relationships do.”

“What way is that?”

“Bitterly,” he answers, “in burning and in heartbreak.”

“So…” Hinata begins and Kei nods slightly to let him know that he’s listening.  “So,” he says again, “you wouldn’t feel that same way if your friendship with Yamaguchi ended? Like, if he said he didn’t want to be best friends anymore?”

Kei’s eyes widen. His jaw slacks.

“I think,” Hinata goes on in Kei’s silence, “I think that friendships can end just as badly and as—what did you say, heartbreakingly? Is that a word?—as relationships. I mean, as long as the people in them cared about each other. Or if they loved each other.”

Kei stares intensely at the lockers on the opposite wall. Hinata goes on.

“Especially if, uh. Especially if someone loves their friend and the friend doesn’t know.”

Kei stands up once again and tugs his sports glasses down. He scrubs his pale hands roughly over his face, thinking that he doesn’t give Hinata enough credit. He may be stupid, but he’s a good person.

And he’s right.

Friendship with Yamaguchi or relationship with Yamaguchi, Kei will be devastated when it ends. In that way and that way only, the two are interchangeable and oddly enough, Hinata’s words comfort him. They silence the monstrous butterflies in his stomach. The distracting knot of jumbled words in his head starts to loosen, if only a little.

“It’s freaky when you smile, Tsukishima,” Hinata teases. Kei hadn’t even realized. “Is that—er, is that why you’re freaking out? Because you don’t want to lose him as a friend?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

Hinata hums. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to tell because you’re so stoic.”

“Why did Yamaguchi break up with Matsuda-san?” Kei asks.

“Ugh,” groans Hinata, “this again?”

“You know. I know you know. So tell me.”

“You really want me to tell you?”

“Yes,” Kei decides. “He won’t.”

“He will, though. Besides, it’s not really my place to tell you.”

If it was because of me, wouldn’t Yamaguchi have told me so by now? Kei wonders.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because! Because, like, okay. If your parents were having another baby, you know, a little brother or sister for you, who would you want to tell you about it? The doctor? No,” Hinata answers himself, “you’d want to hear it from your parents!”

Kei wonders if he’s somehow had a brain hemorrhage in the last thirty seconds.

“Any metaphor in which you are likened to a doctor is a truly disconnected one.”

“Hey. I’m trying to help.”

“You sort of did,” Kei says and Hinata beams, “before that last part.”

“I’ll take it!”

How does it feel, Kei wants to ask, to finally get to be with him after all your pining? Is it like inhaling fresh air after months and months of breathlessness? Or is it like finally relaxing your sore muscles after hours of splashing and letting the tide take you where it may? Is he similarly enchanted?

Kei finally replaces his sports glasses and holds his fist out toward Hinata.

“Let’s win this.”

Hinata bumps his own against it with enthusiasm.

“Yeah!”

_______

“Kageyama.”

The setter looks up from where he sits against the wall in one of Sendai’s relatively empty gyms. He pulls a small file through the air and it scrapes softly against his fingernail; a sound that sets Kei’s teeth on edge. Kageyama’s movements are precise, as if he’s conducting an orchestra. An uproarious group of small children run in circles around each other on the opposite side of the spacious room. Kei turns over his shoulder to watch them for a minute, but turns back when Kageyama replies.

“What?”

“Hey,” says Kei.

“Hey.”

Kei’s not really sure how to start this conversation.

He’d never admit it out loud—can hardly even think it in his head without grimacing—but he thinks he and Kageyama are alike, in some ways. They aren’t able to show their emotions the way Hinata and Yamaguchi can: openly, candidly, without fear of immediate backlash. Kei wonders what he’d be like if he weren’t so inexpressive (or, to borrow a term from Nishinoya, emotionally constipated). But Yamaguchi has Kei constantly teetering on the edge of absolute passion.

It is foreign and that in itself is terrifying. But Kei can’t imagine it any differently.

“Why are you in here?”

“It’s quieter than the main gym,” Kageyama says, still eyeing his nails as he files.

His voice drips with discontent. He’s still tense from Karasuno’s loss to Shinzen earlier on.

“Did Yushin ever say anything to you?”

“After you told him to go fuck himself?”

Kei squints. “I didn’t quite say that.”

“It was something like that,” Kageyama insists. “And no. I said something to him.”

Kei kicks the toe of his sneaker against the gym floor and asks, “What?”

The scraping sound of the file halts momentarily. Kageyama’s azure eyes glance up at him.

“You want to know?”

Kei nods. Kageyama looks back down.

“I told Yushin how I feel when I see Hinata’s face,” he answers. “How I feel when he’s the reason we win a game, how I feel when he chooses to stand next to me instead of anyone else. How he never lets me be by myself.”

Kageyama no longer wears any of the indications of the king he once was. Hot-headed and short-fused, completely, but Kei's pretty much learned to excuse that. They are just factors of his personality. Kei steps to the wall and sits a handful of feet from the setter, considering his words. Kageyama continues to file at his thumbnail with disturbing concentration. Across the gym, one of the children lets out a shrill cry. Both teenagers ignore it.

“And I told Yushin how I don’t think—hm,” Kageyama starts and then reconsiders.

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think what?”

“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

Kageyama waits another minute before he continues, like he thinks Kei will up and walk out if he stalls long enough. Kei sits patiently and follows the subtle lines on the wood of the gym floor with his eyes.

“I told him how I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same about another person.”

Kei wants to bite his tongue but his next words fall quickly from his mouth, as if desperate to be heard.

“I understand.”

Kageyama turns away from his meticulous nail filing to stare at Kei. Kei blinks at him.

“Tell me you told Hinata these things, too," says Kei.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t,” Kageyama replies, but Kei can tell he has by the ruby blush that creeps over his face. Kageyama squints, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you asking me about this, anyway? What’s in it for you?”

“It’s just…aren’t you afraid you and Hinata will end? That your friendship won't ever go back to the way it was?” Kei finally asks.

Kageyama turns from him.

“Sure,” he says, filing at his index finger now. “But I guess I try not to think about that shit.”

“And why not?” Kei replies in desperation. Kageyama shrugs a shoulder.

“Because I’ve already gotten lucky enough to have him like me in the first place. I’m not gonna weigh it down with depressing stuff like that.”

“What makes you think it’s luck?” Kei questions.

Kageyama stills. He gives Kei a quick glance.

“I know what I’m like,” he mumbles.

Kei looks forward to see one of the little girls across the court fall to her knees. Her face twists up in pain. The other kids gather around her to stare and another girl with pigtails cups her face and coos something that makes them all smile.

“I know what you’re like, too.”

“Is that so?” asks Kei.

“Yeah. So does Yamaguchi,” Kageyama insists, “and he’s still insanely into you. I’m not the only lucky one, idiot. So why don’t you just go for it?”

“What?” Kei barks.

“What do you mean what?”

“What did you just say?”

“What? About Yamaguchi’s big, gay, obvious crush on you?” questions Kageyama sincerely.

“You can just say crush,” Kei snaps although he hates the term. “And what do you know about it, anyway?”

“Please,” huffs Kageyama as he studies his nails, “you know how close Hinata and Yamaguchi are. I’m with Hinata every day. I hear about your guys’ business all the time.”

Kei’s face heats up like he’s run ten laps around the gym without his knowing. His heart pounds emphatically in his tight chest. On some level, he’s kind of always figured Kageyama knew at least something. He just didn’t think he’d be presented with the information in such a straightforward way. It’s Kei’s own fault for thinking Kageyama would ever be even the slightest bit tactful.

Insanely into you, insanely into you, insanely into you, Kei repeats to himself. Kageyama’s diction is dizzying and the words themselves make Kei’s head feel like it could detach and roll away.

“Not that I ever want to,” Kageyama adds offhandedly.

“Mother of fuck,” Kei swears.

The cluster of children nearly break their necks turning to gape at him.

“Yeah. So, did you really run away when he tried to jack you off?”

Kei yanks his glasses off and scrubs his hands over his burning face.

“Because that takes a lot of willpower. More than I thought you had in y—”

“Shut the fuck up, will you?”

“Oops,” Kageyama deadpans. “Too far?”

“Entirely,” Kei spits through his fingers.

Kageyama hums but otherwise leaves Kei to suffer in silence for the next few minutes, save for the revival of the dull scraping of his nail file. A part of him shouts wordlessly to Kageyama next to him, you don’t even know the half of it, and you don’t have seven years of friendship on the line. But another part of him just thinks, was Yamaguchi really going to do that had I stayed in that room?

Probably, he decides, and it sends a jolt through his body.

He absolutely can not wrap his mind around the fact that that is something Yamaguchi wants. Another jolt and Kei tries to pull himself back to the present moment. Kageyama eventually places the file at his side. It clinks against the gym floor. He shoots a look at Kei before he speaks again.

"Besides, this is way better than being friends. I mean, you saw that spot I left on him."

Kei hums in response.

“Yamaguchi went out with that girl for about a month, right?”

Thirty-one days, Kei corrects internally. 

“About, yeah.”

Kageyama hums. It would almost sound thoughtful if Kei didn’t know him better.

“What?” Kei prompts.

Kageyama looks at him askance and drones, “Sounds to me like you only want to be with him now that you’ve seen him with someone else. That’s not really fair.”

Kei turns fully to glare at him.

“Says the guy who let some first-year openly flirt with him for three months in front of what was basically his boyfriend.”

“Only—only because I didn’t realize!” sputters Kageyama.

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Stupid,” Kei insults. “And anyway, what do you know? It’s been far longer than that.”

“What has?”

“How long that I’ve had—I mean, how long I’ve—Yamaguchi,” Kei struggles.

He wills his cheeks not to burn again. One more session like before and he’s afraid he’ll burst into flames and scorch up the very floor beneath him. Kageyama cocks his head and blinks at Kei owlishly.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?” Yamaguchi asks, face peeking through the doorway of the gym.

Kei starts. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Since just now. You look like a beet, Tsukki.”

“A beet?”

“You’re all red,” Yamaguchi comments. He frowns. “Oh, no. You didn’t tell him the hickey story did you, Kageyama?”

“What? No!” Kageyama exclaims.

He stands up and saunters into the hallway, mumbling something about seeing them later. Yamaguchi watches after him but turns back to Kei when he stands up as well. Yamaguchi looks cheerily up at him.

“Don’t forget your glasses, Tsukki. Though you should probably put your sports ones back on. Our next game’s starting soon.”

“Oh. Right.”

Yamaguchi ducks down and grabs them from the floor. Kei holds out his hand.

“I wanna do it,” Yamaguchi tells him.

Kei watches Yamaguchi’s delicate hands and long fingers as he unfolds the temples. He steps close and leans up on his tiptoes, although he doesn’t really need to, and just sort of hovers the glasses in front of Kei’s face. Their eyes stare into one another’s for a long second, and Kei has the urge to tell him everything here and now. Yamaguchi looks up at him like maybe he expects him to.

“Yamaguchi…” breathes Kei.

“I’m doing it, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi insists softly and moves to hook the glasses over Kei’s ears.

Kei reaches up and stops him with a hand on his wrist. Yamaguchi’s mouth falls open slightly. Kei takes a final step closer to him so they’re nearly toe to toe. The calls of the children across the gym are faint, drowned out by the blood that bangs in his ear with each heartbeat. Kei wants to swoop down and land a kiss right on Yamaguchi’s open mouth. But he can’t bring himself to—not here, not right before their game (what if something goes wrong?), not before he’s had a chance to verbalize what he’s been feeling for him for their entire adolescence and then some.

So he finally slackens his grip on Yamaguchi’s wrist. Kei cranes his neck and raises his hand to press his palm to the back of Yamaguchi’s head. His brown hair is soft under the calloused pads of Kei’s fingers and Kei wills himself not to shake. Yamaguchi’s eyes shine. He looks calm, practically serene, his chest rising and falling steadily as Kei brings their foreheads together. Yamaguchi has to tilt his head up a bit to make it work. They’re so close that Kei feels engulfed in Yamaguchi’s presence in a way he never has before.

“Kei,” Yamaguchi whispers.

Kei shivers and he’s certain Yamaguchi feels it because the hand that isn't holding Kei’s glasses grasps the material of Kei’s jersey, right over his stomach. Yamaguchi’s hand hangs away from his body and pulls the cloth taut over the skin of Kei’s back and shoulders. Kei tries to mimic Yamaguchi’s steady breathing.

He fails miserably.

Rushed, jagged breaths puff in the slight space between their noses and open mouths. In a way, Kei thinks it almost feels more intimate than kissing. Yamaguchi’s forehead is warm against his own, his bangs scratchy on Kei’s skin. Kei revels in their proximity. He’s not exactly sure when he'd shut his eyes, but he sucks in a breath when he opens them at the sight of Yamaguchi's. His naturally small pupils are blown bigger than Kei’s ever seen, his copper irises casting a wide ring around them. He barely notices when Yamaguchi takes in a labored breath as well. Kei’s never looked at Yamaguchi’s freckles up this close either, he realizes as his eyes travel across their makeshift constellations, Yamaguchi’s skin a bronzed sky beneath them.

When he looks back to Yamaguchi’s eyes, he finds him still staring wide-eyed into his own. Kei’s face heats up at the unwavering attention. He wants to repeat Yamaguchi’s adjectives back to him (celestial, gorgeous, captivating, ethereal—so, so gorgeous, does he even understand the way I see him?) but the words, though memorized, escape Kei the second he tries to speak.

All that comes out is, “Tadashi, you…”

The fist balled in Kei’s jersey tightens with a light pull.

“Come on,” Yamaguchi breathes. It’s almost a whine.

Kei’s heart palpitates and he has to close his eyes for a few seconds to regain himself. The sight when he opens them is just as wondrous as the first time, all brown eyes and familiar freckles that stoke the embers in Kei’s heart. Just a little closer, he tells himself.

He softly presses his palm to the back of Yamaguchi’s head once again. After a moment that passes with an aching drag, the tips of their noses bump together. Their height difference, though modest, still leaves a couple of inches between Kei and Yamaguchi’s mouths. Yamaguchi’s lips part slightly as if to say, come get me, come on, I’m waiting. But something in Yamaguchi’s eyes tells Kei that he won’t be the one to close the gap.

He wants Kei to.

A deep, reverberating groan sounds through the gym. It takes both teenagers a few seconds to recognize it as Sendai’s hourly bell. Its fifth groan effectively breaks through the haze that surrounds them.

Yamaguchi pulls his face from Kei’s with a gasp.

“The game,” he announces. “The game, our fucking game. Ennoshita’s going to kill me.”

Kei has never cared less about volleyball than he does at this very second.

Yamaguchi pushes Kei’s glasses into his hand and Kei blinks. He puts them on and Yamaguchi stares at him as if it would physically pain him to look anywhere else. Kei’s hands twitch at his sides, remembering how nice Yamaguchi’s hair had felt between his fingers. The broken moment between them has Yamaguchi swearing.

“God damn it. Fuck. God fucking damn it.”

Kei feels similarly vexed.

“Shit,” he says once more for good measure. “Come on, Tsukki.”

Kei follows Yamaguchi out of the gym, feeling pretty certain that Yamaguchi could walk him into hell and he’d follow along with a skip in his step and a song in his head.

The children watch them go.

Chapter 16: bloom

Notes:

i can't believe this went over 60,000 words. it is truly the ssslllloooowwwweeesssttttt burn.

happy, happy, happy reading.

“You’re relieved from your position as vice captain.”

“What?” shrieks Yamaguchi.

“You heard me.”

“Enno—I—we’re only—”

“No, I’m totally kidding. But please don’t be late again.”

_______

 
“Amazing,” Kei deadpans. “He completely missed his shoulder and just went straight for his lap.”

Yamaguchi says, “It is kind of amazing.”

“How does he sleep like that?” questions Nishinoya.

“No idea.”

“Tsukishima,” shouts Tanaka, leaning over the bus seat to swat at Kei’s shoulder, “take a picture, take a picture!”

“Why would I want a picture of that on my phone?”

“Blackmail?” Nishinoya suggests.

“It’s not blackmail if they’re dating.”

He pouts. “You’re no fun.”

Hinata is completely slumped in his seat and has managed to sprawl the entire upper half of his body over Kageyama’s legs, his snores muffled by the setter’s thigh. It’s actually kind of impressive. Kei figures Hinata will have seven different cramps when he wakes up.

“You know, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi mumbles once everyone’s settled down.

Kei turns from the window. “What?”

“You could rest your head on my shoulder if you get tired.”

“Your shoulder is lower than mine. I’d get a kink in my neck.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says. “Then I guess I’d have to put my head on your shoulder.”

Kei returns his gaze to the landscape that zips by to hide his grin.

“Guess so.”

So Yamaguchi does.

_______

 
When they get to school, Tanaka shows Kei all six pictures he took of he and Yamaguchi on the bus when they’d apparently fallen asleep. The ace throws his arm around Kei’s shoulders and scrolls happily through his camera roll, looking up every few seconds to make sure Kei’s still paying attention. A warm breeze blows into the club room through the door, left ajar. Yamaguchi and Hinata stand out on the landing. Hinata’s shock of orange hair contrasts wildly against the mid-afternoon sky of cyan.

“Why did you take so many?” Kei asks.

“The more, the merrier.”

“But they’re all the same.”

“Nuh-uh,” Nishinoya protests, hopping to Kei’s side. “Each one’s cuter than the last!”

“Delete them.”

Tanaka releases Kei to hold his phone over his heart. “Never.”

“Fine. Don’t.”

“All of you, finish up and get out of here,” Ennoshita says and shrugs on his jacket despite the warm weather. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend and be responsible. Good job today. I mean it.”

“Good job today!” the team choruses.

“You’re awesome, Chikara!” fawns Nishinoya.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Kei’s about to head out and collect Yamaguchi so they can walk home, but Ennoshita stops him with a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Tsukishima, grab Yamaguchi for me, would you? I need to talk to him.”

Kei blinks. “If this is about us being late earlier, it was my fault. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not,” Ennoshita reassures and gives Kei’s shoulder a pat. “Honestly, I’d already forgotten about that. I just need to talk to him about practice times next week.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks.”

Hinata and Yamaguchi cease their chatter when Kei steps from the club room. The cloud cover from earlier is gone, leaving the sun to shine brilliantly over the school grounds. Kei rests his hip against the railing and turns toward the two of them.

“Ennoshita-san wants you, Yamaguchi.”

“Sounds sexy!” shouts Nishinoya as he and Tanaka descend the stairs.

“Did he say what about?” asks Yamaguchi.

“Practice times.”

“Oh. Okay,” he responds, somewhat deflated, “then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yamaguchi pulls his lip into his mouth and Kei furrows his brow. He can still feel the weight of his head on his shoulder. He’s somewhat irked that Tanaka has those photos. Kei thinks of it as a private moment that just happened to take place on a bus filled with fourteen other people. Of course I’m going to wait for you, fool, he thinks.

“I’ll be by the tree where you found that grasshopper.”

Yamaguchi beams. “Okay, Tsukki! Thanks, Tsukki!”

Spring has indeed sprung, Kei decides as he settles himself between clusters of flowers that have sprouted even under the shade of the large tree. He eyes the buds of yellow tulips by his feet.

Jealousy, Kei thinks to himself, they symbolize jealousy. He’s unamused by the modern interpretation of them that insists hope and cheerfulness. His attention is pulled to the pinks that bump into his side with the gentle breeze and thinks, confidence. Perhaps he should pick some of those. Kei leans onto his hand to peer around the trunk of the tree. He spies a nest of white tulips—for apologies—and next to them, exactly two red ones. Their stems are bent around one another’s. Their buds of concentrated petals nudge each other playfully in the wind.

They’ll never grow like that, Kei thinks and moves to untangle them.

Red tulips symbolize love; everyone and their brother knows this. Still, the color is captivating. His eyes are drawn to it. He wants to pick them and place them in a jar in his room but he knows they’ll never grow that way, either. Besides, Kei has never been a huge fan of flowers. Even less so when they’re out of their natural habitat. Someone had to have planted you all like this, Kei thinks as he turns his attention from one color cluster to the next, because this arrangement is unnatural.

He crosses his legs. He wrings his hands in his lap.

He plans how he will tell Yamaguchi.

The words are there, in his head, but it’s just a matter of getting them out. Should I sit him down and run Yamaguchi through everything I’m thinking? No, too formal. Maybe I should write him a letter. No. Way too lame—and sort of a cop out. Use your words, Kei, he patronizes himself, words are good. Words are helpful.

His heartbeat betrays him, pumping fast and subsequently fraying his nerves. He stands and begins to pace. He’s careful not to step on any of the flowers as he circles the thick tree trunk, one, two, three times. Kei shakes his hands out at his sides like he’s been writing novellas and they’ve started to cramp. He strays from the perimeter of shade that the tree provides. The afternoon sun shines on him.

Tell him you love him, no, that you’re in love with him and the rest will fall into place, Kei thinks while he simultaneously sneers aloud, “Sounds too easy.”

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi screeches.

Kei leaps nearly a foot into the air at the outburst. He squints against the sun to watch Yamaguchi tear through the school grounds like a bat out of absolute hell.

Yamaguchi zooms past the front stairs in a dead run right toward him, and Kei figures he’ll slow down once he gets closer. Kei figures wrong. Yamaguchi’s feet hit the grass and he just keeps on coming. He zips across the field in a flat second and Kei makes a surprised, embarrassing squawk as Yamaguchi tackles him bodily to the ground.

“What—” he starts.

He has to pause to inhale, his breath having been pulled from him when Yamaguchi slammed him down. Yamaguchi unapologetically sits his full weight on Kei’s stomach and stares down at him. His face twitches in the shade of the tree—he’d knocked Kei back considerably—as if he wants to wear a certain expression but doesn’t want to reveal it just yet.

Kei takes just a second to appreciate the warm feeling in his chest and abdomen due to Yamaguchi’s position, thighs pressing into his sides and freckled knees astride Kei’s middle. He begs himself to keep a level head though his thoughts want to wander south. Kei squirms. Yamaguchi doesn’t budge.

He slams his hands into the dirt on either side of Kei’s head but his tone is light, excited.

“You won’t date me because you think it’ll ruin our friendship?!”

The words hit him harder than Yamaguchi ever could. His heart rate skyrockets and if Yamaguchi weren’t pinning him, he feels he might up and float away.

“D—date you?” Kei coughs out.

“Yes! Date me! Date me, date me, date me!”

Each repetition is complemented with a tiny hop from Yamaguchi, bobbing himself on Kei’s stomach. It’s cute, it’s really cute (everything Kei’s ever wanted, honestly) but it’s also extremely distracting. Kei clears his throat like he’s going to speak.

Date you? he wonders. The term seems so trite, casual. Kei doesn’t think it quite fits he and Yamaguchi. He thinks, after everything and all this time, they’re deserving of something entirely new; untouched by millions before them.

“Jesus, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi warbles with glistening eyes, and that’s when Kei realizes he’s been talking out loud. “Tsukki, I—you really?—there’s just…”

Yamaguchi leans up on freckled knees to hover his face directly over Kei’s. Even in the shade, Kei feels like he’s been set ablaze. A hurricane of anticipation swirls in his gut. Relentless bubbles of joy or anxiety pop inside his chest like firecrackers. It's a nerve-wracking kind of celebration.

“Who told you about—”

“Hinata,” Yamaguchi answers.

“Damn him.”

“Bless him,” he corrects quickly and starts to pepper quick kisses all over Kei’s face.

Yamaguchi pecks his chin, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his forehead. All the while, Kei smiles and smiles and smiles, eyes shut tightly like if he opens them Yamaguchi might disappear. He kisses everywhere but his mouth, although Kei braces for it. He remembers himself and raises his hands to cup Yamaguchi’s tan face. Yamaguchi leans back and into the touch, but only slightly. He’s still on a mission. He quickly plucks Kei’s glasses from his face, gives him a chaste smooch right between his eyes, and replaces them.

Kei could melt.

“You’re pretty dumb,” Yamaguchi lilts playfully.

Kei agrees, “I am really dumb.”

“Your friend—I mean, Tsukki—I’ll always be your friend.”

“I know.”

“I told you that when we were, like, eleven.”

“I know.”

“Then…”

“Yamaguchi,” Kei says evenly. Yamaguchi stares attentively down at him. “I was wrong to say we could only be friends. I was just scared.”

“Scared,” Yamaguchi repeats.

Kei nods, his head scraping against the grass underneath it.

“Scared shitless. But it’s you, and you’re…you, and, fuck. I had something for this.”

“Tsukki, you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do, though. I do,” Kei insists, voice cracking.

He writhes once more under Yamaguchi’s weight and tries not to gasp at the feeling.

“You’re uncomfortable,” notes Yamaguchi with a frown, “sorry, Tsukki.”

“No, no—it’s just—uh, distracting.”

Yamaguchi blushes fiercely, deep crimson shadowing his tan face. He crawls carefully backward until he sits on his knees between Kei’s legs. Kei gulps and walks himself up on his hands so he sits upright as well, blond hair still matted against the back of his head. His body feels unpleasantly light without Yamaguchi’s added weight atop him. Kei takes a deep breath in an attempt to regain some semblance of confidence.

“I can’t ever be just your friend,” he exhales shakily. “I want you to know that, okay?”

Yamaguchi nods vehemently, bottom lip pulled between his teeth like he doesn’t trust what he’ll say if he were to release it. Kei eyes Yamaguchi’s hands, balled into tight fists in his lap. He shuffles forward on the grass to grab them. Like Kei’s said the magic word, Yamaguchi’s hands unclench and their palms slide easily together; warm and slightly sweaty this time, instead of chilled and slicked from the rain. They breathe laboriously and in unison until Yamaguchi’s breath hitches in his throat.

“This—ah,” he sighs.

Kei stays silent because if he opens his mouth, his heart might jump out.

“This is why I broke up,” Yamaguchi breathes, “with, ah—with Mamiko.”

“Her palms weren’t as sweaty as mine?” Kei jests lamely. He’s nervous.

“Tsukki, I held your hand when we walked home in that storm and, it wasn’t even really holding hands, but I still—I still felt more when we did that than anything I ever did with her.”

Kei’s breaths come short, ragged. “It was the very next morning that you did it, wasn’t it?”

Yamaguchi pulls one of his hands from Kei’s to dig the heel of his palm into his eye. They must sting; Kei sees them glisten. Yamaguchi nods his head and lets his hand fall back to his lap. It immediately finds Kei’s once again. He gives it a tight squeeze, interlocking their fingers, and Kei’s heart lurches.

“I told her the truth. I was so afraid that she might tell you before I got the nerve to, Tsukki, because she was so frustrated with me. And you, I guess, but it wasn't your fault. You kept asking me and asking me why I broke up with her and I didn’t know what to do because,” Yamaguchi pauses to take a breath, “because how pathetic would I be breaking up with a really nice girl because of someone I couldn’t be with? But then I thought about when you hugged me in my room that one morning, your heart was beating so fucking fast and you let me take your hand in the rain and then there’s that thing you did this morning in the gym and holy shit, Tadashi, stop talking.”

Yamaguchi wants to hide his flushed face in his hands but Kei won’t let go of them. He takes a couple of slow breaths and Kei watches the rise and fall of his chest under his t-shirt. Yamaguchi steels himself and continues, less frantic this time.

“And then that night you told me you liked me for more than what I looked like, you remember?”

“Of course I remember."

“I yelled at you,” he warbles, words suddenly slurring and slipping, “and you cried and I, I can’t believe I made you cry. Kei, I didn’t ever want to do that. I was just frustrated, because you’re all I think about and you didn’t want me.”

“You know I cried?” Kei asks softly.

“Your face,” Yamaguchi tells him, “I could see it on your face, Tsukki. You’re my best friend. I went over there to tell you how I felt but then—then you weren’t wearing a shirt, oh my god, and your face was how I’d never seen it before, and you were so handsome and calm and nice, falling asleep with me in your room like that.”

Kei shuffles forward, cheeks burning, and pulls Yamaguchi to him. Yamaguchi stumbles forward a bit on his knees but braces himself by throwing his arms around Kei’s neck. Kei’s arms wrap around Yamaguchi’s middle, pressing their chests tightly together.

Warm, so warm, he marvels.

“I wanted you,” confesses Kei. “I wanted you the whole time.”

Kei sucks in the breath of fresh air he’s been waiting so fucking long to take. It’s glorious.

“Badly. So badly, Tadashi,” he adds with desperation.

“Tsu-kki,” Yamaguchi whines in his ear.

“There hasn’t been a single second in which I don’t want you. I love everything about you.”

Yamaguchi stiffens for a second, squeezes his arms tighter around Kei, and relaxes once more.

“I love how you can’t walk in the rain or snow. I love how cold your house is because it gives me an excuse to sit closer to you. I love how you never leave me waiting for a text back,” he lists effortlessly, easier to confess now that Yamaguchi's not looking straight at him. “I love how well we know each other. I love your dedication to volleyball, and your dedication to my dedication to it.” Yamaguchi shakes against him with a laugh and Kei continues, “I love that you shared Tanaka-senpai’s beer with me at the park. I love that you’re nice. You’re so nice. You’re the nicest person I’ll ever know. I love your face, I love your freckles, I love that unruly bit of hair at the top of your head.”

Yamaguchi brings a hand to it at its mention and Kei watches as he tries to smooth it down. It pops right back up and Kei puffs out a weak laugh. He feels winded from his monologue, and about one billion other things happening at the moment.

He adds one more thought after a deep breath, “I love that me using your given name gets you going.”

At this, Yamaguchi climbs gently into Kei’s lap. Kei’s arms fall to his sides to let Yamaguchi arrange himself how he may. Yamaguchi keeps himself plastered tight to Kei’s body, arms snug around Kei’s neck and face hidden. He puffs hot breaths into the shell of Kei’s ear. Kei shudders and thinks, more contact, so he brings his wobbling hands forward once more. Yamaguchi’s not straddling him like before, but rather sits on one of Kei’s thighs with his legs swung over the other. So Kei places one hand on Yamaguchi’s knee, fingertips smoothing over the freckles there, and brings the other to rest on his hip.

The intimacy and novelty of it all pulls from Kei a low, drawn-out hum. Don’t let this end.

Yamaguchi eventually peels himself from Kei’s chest and shoulders. His arms unlock from their vice grip around his neck and he gazes at Kei with half-lidded, copper eyes. Kei finally gets a good look at him—face flushed with pink, perfect lips parted, eyes red-rimmed with the onslaught of tears that never fell—and he can’t be more charmed. His palm rubs over Yamaguchi’s scuffed knee, this time of its own volition.

Yamaguchi stills it with his hand. Kei starts to apologize but then Yamaguchi grasps it and brings it to his chest. He presses Kei’s hand right over his heart. His grip is gentle yet insistent.

“You do that,” Yamaguchi lets him know.

Kei’s breath leaves him. Yamaguchi’s heartbeat is downright chaotic. Kei is shocked he didn’t feel it against his own chest just a minute ago. It pulses and flutters against his palm and the longer he acknowledges it, the more intent his own heart is to match it. Yamaguchi waits for Kei to meet his eyes before he goes on.

“You’ve always done that to me. Since we were small.”

His voice is quiet, wistful, childlike.

Kei moves his hand from Yamaguchi’s hip and Yamaguchi watches in wonder as he raises it. He softly cards it through Yamaguchi’s brown hair. Yamaguchi’s eyes fall closed. Tentatively, Kei coaxes their faces closer and closer. Oh my god, Kei reminds himself, you want this as much as I do.

He lets Yamaguchi ghost a single, hot breath over his lips before Kei ends the suspense. He brings their mouths together in a soft kiss. It’s gentle but it lingers, all the desperation and need they’ve both felt somehow manifesting in its utter fragility. Yamaguchi’s lips are as soft as Kei remembers and he moves his hand from his hair to the side of his face, his thumb caressing Yamaguchi's warm cheek.

Their lips move together slowly, so slowly. Each hint of pressure between them makes Kei’s fingers twitch. It’s so good; concurrently familiar and foreign, like rereading an old favorite book that’s been left untouched for so long that dust has to be blown off the cover before it's opened. Kei reads Yamaguchi’s movements and cues as intently as he reads anything. He smooths his thumb over the collection of freckles under his eye when Yamaguchi tilts his head the slightest degree. Yamaguchi buzzes a quiet hum to Kei’s lips and Kei follows suit in a lower pitch. It has Yamaguchi absently nudging his knee into Kei’s stomach. Kei barely notices.

Yamaguchi pulls back to bump the tips of their noses together playfully, as if to say, hey, are you feeling this? This is really happening, huh, Tsukki? Are you getting all this?

In turn, Kei cranes his neck to slightly adjust their angle, not deepening the kiss, but rather renewing it. Yamaguchi parts his lips only to push a pleased sigh into Kei’s mouth. He scrabbles at Kei’s hand that still monitors his rapid heartbeat. They kiss each other's smiles.

It’s not like Kei’s ever seen in any movie or read in any book. It’s not even like he’d been imagining it (and imagining it and imagining it and imagining the hell out of it) for the past few months. It's not like any of his dreams; the fast, lewd ones or the quiet, lovely ones. There’s no predicted crashing of their lips together, no poetry, no dramatic spectacle in front of a bustling crowd of people.

It’s slow. It carries on. It’s playful, it’s gentle. It’s nice. It’s affirming. It’s easy.

The kiss is Kei and Yamaguchi’s relationship.

And it is both in full bloom and just starting to sprout, all at once.

Notes:

this chapter reminds me of this song.

art is by the AMAZING sorenlovinsen <3

Chapter 17: i loved you then and i love you now, pt. I

Notes:

er, ah, okay. as you can see i upped the total chapter count to 18.

this is because i wrote so much more smut than i intended to. i'm sure you won't blame me for that. 'cause my theory is, okay, if you guys are reading over SIXTY THOUSAND WORDS of this fic, you eventually want to get a little something dirty out of it when push finally comes to shove. besides, it's only natural for the course of the story! of course they wanna get it on! right? right! smut near the end is the very essence of slow burns, after all. and this has been one slow burn. this chapter is the longest of the whole fic.

title is from grouplove's 'tongue tied', which you can also hear on the cfiyc 8tracks playlist!!

happy, happy reading! ;)

“C’mere, fucker!” Yamaguchi shouts as he bounds around Kageyama’s yard.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not its name.”

“His name, Tsukishima,” Hinata corrects.

Yamaguchi ducks to go under the net, hot on the puppy’s heels. Kei is endlessly amused by the fact that Kageyama has a volleyball net set up in his backyard, as if he doesn’t get enough practice at the school twice a day every day. The grass on either side of it is even worn down. Hinata’s been eyeing it since they arrived at Kageyama’s house from said practice, but Kei won’t budge.

“Just a quick two-on-two.”

“No.”

“One measly set!”

“Nope.”

“First couple to ten points wins?”

Couple, Kei repeats to himself, his hand coming up to rest over his heart.

“It’s hot enough outside already without us exerting ourselves.”

“I dunno,” Hinata claims, “Yamaguchi looks like he’s having a good time.”

Yamaguchi is on his hands and knees on the grass in front of the tiny Akita puppy. He lowers himself on his forearms and crawls closer. The brown ball of fluff yips at him happily. Yamaguchi makes kissing noises at him in return and Kei bites back a dopey smile. Kageyama finally emerges from his house, a purple bowl of water between his hands that sloshes all over Hinata’s lap when he sits between he and Kei on the grass.

“My pants!” Hinata complains, shoving Kageyama with his elbow.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry!”

Kageyama smirks. “You can always take them off.”

“Maybe I will,” Hinata says and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Awesome.”

“No flirting,” Kei complains.

“Hey. It’s my house.”

Across the yard, Yamaguchi snatches the puppy up with one hand and rolls over onto his back. Kei watches as he brings him to his face to smooch his tiny snout, babbling incoherently in what Kei can only imagine is puppy speak. Yamaguchi is fluent in it. The Akita lies lazily on Yamaguchi’s chest for a minute before Yamaguchi lifts him playfully up, down, up, down, and up again into the air.

“He’s bench-pressing my dog,” Kageyama says.

Kei grins. Hinata chirps a laugh and swings his arm around Kageyama’s waist.

Kageyama goes on, “I’ve had Michi for two days and he already likes Yamaguchi better than me.”

“Don’t we all,” Kei responds automatically.

“Asshole.”

“I can’t believe you got a puppy, Tobio.”

“Yeah,” agrees Kei. “You don’t really seem like the type.”

“My mom wanted one. What do you mean the type?”

“Well, I mean. Theoretically speaking, dogs are fun. Dogs are lovable.”

“I’m not fun and lovable?”

Kei shrugs. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it!” Kageyama insists.

“Exactly.”

Hinata leans around Kageyama to smack Kei in the shoulder and protests, “That’s not fair, Tsukishima! He’s fun and lovable.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! I mean, I love him.”

Kageyama makes a sound like he’s swallowed his tongue. Kei raises an eyebrow and wonders if this is the first time Hinata’s voiced something like that. When his wide brown eyes double in size at the realization of what he’s said, Kei gathers that it is. Hinata’s arm around Kageyama’s waist tightens as if he thinks Kageyama will get up and leave. Kageyama does the opposite, leaning further into Hinata’s side.

“You do?” Kageyama asks plainly.

“Yeah, I do,” Hinata answers.

A ruby blush covers his features. Kageyama looks down and scratches idly at his palm and Kei tries to subtly inch away from them. He takes great interest in a particular fence post to his left.

“Me, uh, me too.”

“Seriously?!” squawks the redhead.

“Yeah. Dumbass, I thought—I thought you knew that.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

As if their professions of love would be anything more romantic than this, thinks Kei. But he’s not really one to talk. It’s been two days since his confession to Yamaguchi and he’s not yet been able to verbalize the words himself. He feels Yamaguchi knows, but Kei wants to say them regardless. He needs to. After all, he’s only pretty sure that I love everything about you is different from the definitive I love you or what Kei really thinks he should say: I’m in love with you. Deeply and irreversibly. It overwhelms me.

All of the above would be good, Kei decides as Kageyama and Hinata grab each other’s hands and sprint into the house behind them. Hinata’s giddy laughter is cut off as Kageyama slams shut the sliding door behind them. Kei definitely missed something. But he’s sure he doesn’t want to know what they’re doing in there. Although, Kageyama’s mother is home, so he’s not too concerned.

He turns his attention to Yamaguchi, from where it hardly ever strays.

“I’m going to take you home with me. Okay? Is that okay?” he’s asking the puppy.

“So considerate, Yamaguchi.”

“He loves me,” he tells Kei, still on his back, and hugs Michi to his chest.

Same, thinks Kei.

He stands and brushes the grass from his shorts (Hinata spent the last twenty minutes ripping it from the ground and sprinkling it on him in handfuls) before he makes his way across the yard. His black t-shirt makes the sun’s heat cling right to his skin. Kei drops to his hands and knees, parallel to Yamaguchi. Michi squirms in Yamaguchi’s arms at his presence. Yamaguchi shushes the puppy and holds him out toward Kei.

“You want him, Tsukki?”

“No,” Kei says, “just you.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen as Kei takes his glasses from his face. Kei leans over him, his shadow covering Yamaguchi’s face and making his eyes dilate further. His grip on the puppy loosens. Michi yips and hops away, probably toward the water bowl Kageyama had brought out earlier. Yamaguchi beams up at him.

“Tsukki, Tsukki,” he singsongs. He raises his hand to curl around Kei’s bicep.

Kei leans down and kisses him. Yamaguchi’s too happy to comply. Kei still can’t believe he’s just allowed to do this now; that alone makes heat swoop low in his stomach and sparklers ignite in his chest. Copper and amber eyes flutter closed, Yamaguchi’s willing lips pliable under Kei’s own. Kei’s intent was for it to be chaste, but Yamaguchi kisses him with a sense of urgency he hasn’t been faced with thus far. Kei’s heart spins circles in his ribcage.

Their kissing endeavors have been few and far between in the couple days since they’ve confessed, as they haven’t gotten any time alone. Kei mostly has his brother to thank for this. Akiteru has chosen this weekend (of course, because Kei never has any luck) for a surprise visit home. It’s been infinitely harder to get Yamaguchi to himself in the last forty-eight hours than it ever has in the past. Kei is suspicious. It’s figuratively and maybe literally killing him.

And probably Tadashi too, Kei thinks in excitement.

Kei gasps when Yamaguchi tucks the fingers of his free hand over the collar of Kei’s shirt. His knuckles lie cool against Kei’s throat. Kei shuffles on the grass so they can kiss at a better, less sideways angle, his knee pressing to Yamaguchi’s hip. Yamaguchi kisses into his mouth again—slow, fast, fast, fast, then impossibly slow once more—and Kei tries to match his erratic pace best he can. Yamaguchi’s better than him at this; more confident.

The affirmative hum Yamaguchi gives when Kei’s tongue traces his bottom lip is encouraging. Kei pulls back only to return and lick deeper into Yamaguchi’s mouth. His bent arms are starting to get sore from holding himself in the odd way he is, but he hardly minds it. He minds it even less when Yamaguchi slowly slides their tongues together in the hot haven of his perfect mouth. A satisfying jolt runs through every inch of Kei’s body. He’s entirely too warm, like the sun has isolated its rays directly over he and Yamaguchi alone.

It's insane how easy it is to kiss him. Kei thought they'd need time to perfect it. But as far as he's concerned, it's stellar exactly the way it is right now. Literally, Kei sees stars.

“So good at this,” Yamaguchi compliments when they pull back to breathe.

Kei blushes needlessly. Yamaguchi smiles up at him, lips kissed cherry—all because of him. Kei keeps Yamaguchi’s heavy gaze as he brings their mouths together again. He leans his weight on one hand and brings the other to rest on the back of Yamaguchi’s neck. The blades of grass underneath tickle his knuckles. Yamaguchi subsequently moves to peck him on the cheek, almost shyly, before returning to Kei’s mouth. Kei smiles into their kiss, so happy he feels delirious. His tongue once again teases Yamaguchi’s lips to part and then all Kei can hear is Yamaguchi’s breathing. Kei swallows each gasp, each sigh, each stuttered syllable. He tilts Yamaguchi’s head back with the hand on the nape of his neck to kiss him deeper. Their mouths have become slick. They slide together with almost impossible ease. Kei absently feels drool sliding over his chin as a result.

He eventually detaches from Yamaguchi’s mouth to take some breaths of his own. But he can hardly focus on the simple act of breathing with Yamaguchi behaving like he is: squirming on the grass, his grip on Kei’s bicep tightening with each inhale. The breaths he takes are deep and exceptionally quick. Kei straightens his arms to put more distance between their faces, decidedly concerned. He furrows his brow at the freckled boy below him.

“Are you alr—”

“On top of me,” Yamaguchi pleads.

Kei’s cock twitches in his pants.

“Yeah,” he breathes in agreement.

Yamaguchi nods furiously, eyes half-lidded and blown wide. Kei moves to give him another warm kiss before he plans to comply. Yamaguchi captures his mouth easily and Kei lingers on his lips, anticipation tying a tight knot in his stomach. Panicked excitement fizzles in his chest.

“No kissing at my house,” Kageyama calls flatly from the back porch.

“Kageyama, I said not to bother them!” Hinata scolds.

Their kiss breaks with a wet smack. Kei sits back on his knees, feeling like he’s been ripped from the world he’s come to know and tossed haphazardly into another. He blinks down at the grass next to Yamaguchi’s head.

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi half-babbles, half-pants, “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

“No kissing at your house, really?” comments Hinata from the other side of the yard.

“Unless it’s me and you,” Kageyama responds. “Obviously.”

“Yay! Kind of unfair, though.”

“I’m just joking anyway.”

“I think you need to get a more appropriate joking voice, Tobio.”

“I’m doing my best.”

The sound of their voices has never grated more on Kei’s ears.

“You guys suck,” he tells them weakly.

“What’s that, Tsukishima?”

“You guys suck so fucking much,” he repeats, louder this time.

“Easy! Don’t swear around the puppy!” Kageyama insists in all seriousness.

Kei pants, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Next to him, Yamaguchi bends his knees to set his bare feet flat on the grass. Kei turns to eye him. His position barely hides the noticeable bulge in his shorts; the bulge Kei could have currently been sitting on if they hadn’t been interrupted. Pure arousal shakes through him like a cold chill. He flinches when Yamaguchi wraps a cool hand around his wrist. He stares up at Kei, eyes still blown wide.

“I forgot where we were,” Yamaguchi says, voice drained.

I didn’t, thinks Kei, and if they’d go back inside I’d pick up right where we were forced to leave off. Hell, they could do so much as turn around and I’d be on top of you in a second. Put your hands on my hips. Just like that.

“Kageyama suggested we go get ice cream from Sakanoshita,” Hinata chirps, “to cool us down.”

“Good idea,” Yamaguchi calls to him.

Kei could wring their necks at the moment but is simultaneously grateful when Hinata and Kageyama give he and Yamaguchi ten more minutes of sitting in place on the grass to calm themselves. Eventually, Kei stands and helps Yamaguchi to his feet. Yamaguchi places Kei’s forgotten glasses gently back on his face. They follow their friends through the house and down the road to the shop under the warmth of the afternoon sun, Yamaguchi’s hand trailing down Kei’s arm to lock their fingers together.

They share a grin, two faces flushed red.

________

 
They go to the Tsukishima house when the sun dips below the mountain. Yamaguchi swings their connected hands as they walk, rambling about Kageyama’s new puppy like it hung the stars in the sky. It’s adorable. Kei pulls him off the road a couple times to press kisses to his forehead and cheeks.

“Little brother,” Akiteru addresses.

Kei looks up from his book.

“Big brother who’s smaller than me,” he addresses in return.

“Just vertically.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re twiggy. Like a twig. And I’m a wise, fully-grown oak tree.”

Kei blinks up at him from his place on the floor.

“Did mom spike your coffee?”

“I wish,” says Akiteru. “Where’d Tadashi go?”

Kei looks back to his book. Several chirps from noisy birds float into his room through the open window. Akiteru lingers in Kei’s doorway donning his trademark genuine smile.

“He’s taking a shower.”

“His hair’s gotten longer, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Kei says even though he does.

“It smells like cinnamon in here. Are you burning a candle?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a new candle?”

“No.”

“You took down your Jurassic Park poster,” Akiteru notices.

“Yeah, when I saw the last one and it sucked.”

“I thought it was good.”

Kei huffs out a laugh. “You would think that.”

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Kei says and flips to the next page of his book.

“I’m hungry,” Akiteru tells him conversationally.

Kei sighs. “Eat something.”

“I can’t. We’re going to dinner soon.”

“We are?”

Akiteru nods and says, “Mom wants to try some new place.”

Kei frowns. “Yamaguchi and I were going to watch something,” he lies.

“Tadashi can come too, duh, Kei.”

“Why don’t just you and mom go?” he asks and adds quickly when Akiteru raises an eyebrow at him, “As a bonding experience. Just the two of you. Go. Have fun. Discuss…whatever you guys discuss when I’m not there.”

Akiteru taps at his chin thoughtfully.

“Not a bad idea, Kei.”

Kei hums.

“Even if you are just trying to weasel out of going out with us.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Mom will be bummed,” Akiteru tries.

“I have dinner with her nearly every single day of my life, Akiteru.”

“Oh, yeah! I guess you do.”

Kei rolls his eyes and turns yet another page in his book.

“I’m hungry,” Akiteru says again.

“Oh my god,” Kei deadpans. His brother ignores him.

“What are you reading?” he asks.

“A self-help book. I think it’s called ‘How to Keep Yourself From Murdering Your Brother When He’s Annoying You and You Just Want to Read In Peace’.”

Akiteru drums his fingers against the doorway.

“Point taken,” he chirps, “see you when we get back.”

His mother pokes her head in the doorway a couple minutes after that.

“We’re leaving, Kei.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“So…” she starts.

Kei looks up at her. “What?”

“So it’ll just be you and Tadashi here.”

“Looks like it.”

Despite his casual tone, Kei’s face starts to burn. He’d surprised himself when he’d informed his mother about he and Yamaguchi two nights ago, the very night they’d confessed. He couldn’t help himself. She already knew half of the story anyway. When she’d beamed ear to ear and fixed him a strawberry cake (“Mom, this is going way overboard.” “More like underboard, sweetheart.” “What?”), Kei was instantly glad he’d told her. She is a fantastic person, open-minded and kind, and Kei literally could not ask for a better mother. He wouldn’t dream of it.

He idly flips the page of his book and braces himself. He expects some kind of talk, some kind of warning, some kind of something, but nothing comes. His mother clears her throat. Kei reluctantly raises his gaze to meet her eyes.

She winks.

She fucking winks, and Kei chokes on the very air he breathes.

“That’s all?” he coughs. “That’s all I get?”

“What’d you expect? Kei,” she starts in mock seriousness, “this is called a penis. It’s primary function is to—”

“Mom, please just go to dinner,” Kei begs.

“Fine,” she says, “but seriously, you’re smart. You both are. I’m not worried.”

“Great.”

“You just want me to stop talking, huh?”

“Maybe.”

She giggles at him and his cheeks burn hotter.

“I love you, Kei. We’ll see you when we get back.”

“Love you. Bye.”

He stands when she retreats and crosses his room to blow out the candle. He lifts it to the window and lets the resulting smoke drift outside, under the darkening sky. The wind rustles the trees in the backyard. He tries to find the sound of it peaceful, but his body is tight with nerves. The hand that holds the candle shakes.

They’re finally going to be alone.

The front door slams at the same time Kei hears the shower shut off. Yamaguchi pads into his room minutes later in a plain white t-shirt, a fluffy bath towel draped over his head and purple boxers snug on his thighs. Kei gulps. Yamaguchi stops by Kei’s desk and beams at him.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he rhymes.

“Nothing,” answers Kei. “I was reading.”

He walks to Yamaguchi and rubs the towel over his brown hair. Yamaguchi hums appreciatively. Kei then pulls it from him and hangs it over the back of his desk chair to dry. Yamaguchi’s face is still red from his shower and Kei presses a kiss to his warm forehead. Yamaguchi grins up at him fondly. He presses his cool hands to Kei’s cheeks.

“I’m all pruny,” he tells him.

“You’re so cute,” says Kei.

Yamaguchi pulls their faces together and kisses Kei right on the lips.

“You’re so hot,” he says back.

Kei’s about to protest but Yamaguchi spins around and dives onto the bed. He pulls his bag up from the ground and grabs out his DS. Kei watches the curves of his legs as he crosses them. Outside the window, birds tweet once more. Kei shuts it.

“What’re you reading?”

“Something about sharks,” Kei answers.

Yamaguchi shudders. “Creepy.”

Kei takes a seat by Yamaguchi on his bed, opening the book in his lap. He stares down at the words but they couldn’t possibly be less interesting at the moment. His heart beats so loud he's sure Yamaguchi can hear it. Next to him, the freckled teenager is all smooth, tan skin and easy, pleasant smiles. The console in his hands sings a delightful tune.

“Have you learned anything new, Tsukki?” he asks as he taps away at the screen.

“Not yet.”

Their knees touch when Kei crosses his legs too.

“Tell me when you do.”

“I’ve already read this book.”

“You’re reading it again?” Yamaguchi turns to look at him. “Just brushing up on your shark facts, huh, Tsukki?”

“You never know when they might come in handy.”

Yamaguchi laughs brightly. Kei glows with the sound of it.

“The gyms in this game are too easy,” Yamaguchi tells him offhandedly.

“Maybe you’re just too good at it.”

“Probably fifty-fifty, Tsukki.”

A handful of minutes pass and Kei grows restless. He flips the pages of his book back and forth and forth and back. It creates a breeze that cools his face. Anticipation weaves an unsteady web throughout his body. He feels like he’s been handed a balloon and a tack and everyone just waits for him to bring them together. They’d all jump at the resounding pop. Kei takes a couple deep, subtle breaths. He closes his book, leans down and sets it on the floor.

“Can I see that?” Kei asks.

“Yeah, Tsukki. Use a hyper potion on my Audino, would you?”

Kei hums in response. Yamaguchi hands over the console and Kei does as he says. As soon as the health bar flows seamlessly from yellow to green, Kei shuts the lid. He sets the device atop his book on the floor. Yamaguchi cocks his head. They stare at each other for a long second.

“Hey, uh…” Kei trails off.

He leans up onto his knees and shuffles until he sits in front of Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi’s lips part, a stuttering sigh escaping them when Kei moves into his lap. Yamaguchi’s hips feel like heaven between his thighs. Kei heaves out a deep breath.

“Am I too heavy?” he asks.

“N-no,” Yamaguchi stutters, “you f-feel good.”

“Do I?”

Yamaguchi nods weakly, his head hanging to rest on Kei’s chest. Kei brings his hands up to run his fingers through his brown hair, still a bit damp from earlier. He smooths his fingertips against Yamaguchi’s scalp and it draws out soft, hot breaths that Kei feels through his shirt. Experimentally, Kei squeezes his thighs tighter around Yamaguchi’s middle. It results in Yamaguchi’s hands jerking forward to grab at Kei’s waist. They travel backward, pulling blunt fingernails across Kei’s lower back. Kei gives a sharp whine and rocks himself a bit, trying to achieve more pressure from Yamaguchi’s hands and get closer to the slight body between his legs at the same time. Yamaguchi whines back, mouth pressed flush to the fabric of Kei’s shirt. He yelps when Kei rocks once more.

“I’ll be loud—I—won’t they hear? Kei,” Yamaguchi frets, looking up at him now.

“No one’s home. Wait—ah, you’ll be,” Kei swallows, “you’ll be loud?”

“Not on purpose,” Yamaguchi responds, somewhat shyly.

“Tadashi. Don’t stifle yourself.”

No softcover books, no pillows between our teeth, not tonight. Not this time, Kei thinks, because I want to hear you; to hear myself. I need to know just how my dreams, my thoughts, my assumptions overlap with the real thing. You could never, ever disappoint. Tadashi. Don’t stifle yourself.

Yamaguchi gapes at him wordlessly. He only nods and watches Kei’s expression as he lifts his shirt to rub his palms over the skin of Kei’s back. Kei’s eyes flutter closed of their own accord. He brings his hands to rest on Yamaguchi’s shoulders. His fingers clench involuntarily when Yamaguchi works over the knobs of his spine.

“More of your skin,” Yamaguchi insists and tugs at the hem of Kei’s shirt, pouting almost childishly.

“Of course, yeah,” Kei affirms.

“Tsukki, let me take your glasses.”

“In a bit,” Kei tells him. “I want to see you clearly when I touch you.”

Kei won’t miss one twitch, one expression, one fucking blink. He’s waited far too long for it all to be a literal blur before his eyes. He holds his spectacles in place while Yamaguchi tugs his shirt up over his head and discards it someplace, Kei’s not sure where; he can’t focus on trivial things like that when Yamaguchi mouths at the pale skin just above his navel. His hips jerk forward at the accidental scrape of Yamaguchi’s teeth.

Kei buries his face in Yamaguchi’s soft hair. He sucks in labored breaths as Yamaguchi continues to mouth over the skin of his abdomen. How many times has Yamaguchi seen him shirtless and wanted to do just this? Kei groans, low and guttural, when Yamaguchi runs the pad of his thumb over his nipple. This time, it’s Yamaguchi’s hips that try to jerk forward. They hardly move—Kei’s pinning them—but his heart races at the sentiment. He spreads his thighs in an attempt to bring their bodies closer.

Yamaguchi cries out. It stops Kei in his tracks. A manic shudder travels from his shoulders to the very tips of his curling toes. The prominence in Yamaguchi’s boxers lies snug against the tight denim of Kei’s jeans.

Eyes dark and wide with arousal, Kei orders, “Lie back, Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi falls back immediately, a puppet with his strings cut. He livens as soon as Kei leans down over him, bringing their chests and stomachs together. Yamaguchi’s hands scrabble at Kei’s sides and take a firm hold of his wide hips. Kei sighs into Yamaguchi’s neck.

“Been thinking of this for a long time,” Yamaguchi tells him, voice shaking with emotion. “Your—ah—your body. I mean, god, how your weight would feel—feel on top of me.”

Kei squeezes his eyes shut. He places the softest, sweetest kiss on the curve of Yamaguchi’s neck.

“Me too,” he breathes, “me too, Tadashi—had so many thoughts about this very moment.”

Kei shuffles lower on Yamaguchi’s body and places his hands on either side of him to lift himself just a bit. Golden eyes meet mahogany. Love is palpable in the mere inches between them, soft and gentle like cotton while it spins effortlessly through the slight space like smoke. A bead of sweat falls from Kei’s forehead and drips slowly over the tan, freckled surface of Yamaguchi’s cheek.

Kei grinds his hips down.

“Fuck,” he groans, and swallows Yamaguchi’s similar reaction in a kiss.

Yamaguchi licks at his lips, tilting his head to find Kei’s tongue inside his mouth. They slide together wetly, sloppily, both teenagers preoccupied with pure sensation elsewhere. Yamaguchi swears against his mouth when their clothed (too clothed, Kei thinks absently) erections bump together once more. Kei doesn’t remember moving; doesn’t have the current sense to. It takes another electric rush in his very bones to realize that it’s Yamaguchi bringing them together, his cool, trembling hands with a firm hold on Kei’s hips. He bores Kei down onto himself. His own body arches desperately from the bed so they meet in the middle, hips kissing with powerful pressure.

Kei comes soon after this realization.

His high-pitched moan has Yamaguchi shaking so hard that he loses his grip on Kei’s hips. His hands fall to twitch idly at his sides. Kei grinds down on him through his orgasm, mumbling his given name over and over like he knows Yamaguchi likes. Kei hears that same quick breathing routine he’d heard earlier that day in Kageyama’s backyard. Yamaguchi’s face is crimson under him, eyelids fluttered closed and mouth slack. Kei automatically brings his hand to Yamaguchi’s face. He runs his fingers down the side of it. The pad of Kei’s thumb slides through the sweat and (Kei’s own) spit below his bottom lip.

He supplements the action with another slow slide of his hips. The insistent, delicious friction has Yamaguchi mewling up at him, face shifting to rest in the cradle of Kei’s palm. Kei has half a mind to pull Yamaguchi from his boxers just before he comes as not to dirty them. Kei sits back further to support himself on his knees and tugs the purple fabric down. His chest rises with his slow intake of breath at the sight. Yamaguchi’s dick, flushed a deep pink at the head, nearly has his mouth watering. Kei came only a minute or two ago, but a familiar heat settles over the surface of his skin. He doesn’t even have his hand wrapped fully around it (good god, the feeling of that; of warm, tremendously sensitive, solid skin snug in Kei’s palm) before Yamaguchi comes, spurts of pearly liquid covering Kei’s fist and part of his stomach.

Kei strokes him a few more times as he writhes, babbling a string of Kei’s name and swears that make the tips of Kei’s ears blush furiously.

“Kiss, kiss,” Yamaguchi slurs as he comes down from it.

Kei leans off of Yamaguchi’s sensitive body and crawls to his side. He peppers kisses from Yamaguchi’s hairline to the very tip of his chin. Yamaguchi laughs quietly, his hand rubbing lazy circles over Kei’s bare stomach. It has the hairs at the back of Kei’s neck standing on end. Yamaguchi winces when his fingers smear through the cum under Kei’s navel.

“Sorry,” he says.

He gently wipes the rest of the mess, from Kei’s hand and stomach, with the shirt he still wears.

“Please don’t be.”

Yamaguchi blinks at him.

“You—”

“Yes,” Kei answers before he asks, “I liked it.”

Yamaguchi tips his head back on the bed, spent. Kei reaches down and tucks him back into his boxers with the utmost care. He continues to ignore the growing discomfort in his own jeans. He then turns Yamaguchi’s face toward his with a hand on his chin.

“I like everything that we just did.” Kei pauses. “No—love it. I’m obsessed with it. I won’t be able to get enough of you, ever.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes shine like stars against a black sky. Celestial, Kei thinks.

“You make it so easy,” Yamaguchi says, still in a slight pant, “you’re so beautiful, Tsukki.”

“You are,” Kei tells him.

Yamaguchi huffs dismissively in response. His bangs quiver, still half-plastered to his sweaty forehead. You don’t think so? Kei wonders with an ache. Then, I’ll show you. I’ll show you how beautiful you really are to me. Rest of our lives, okay?

“Don’t,” he reprimands softly. “You are.”

“Tsuk—”

“You’re gorgeous. The most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen. I don’t…”

Yamaguchi prompts, face burning a gorgeous pink beneath his freckles, “You don’t what, Tsukki?”

“I don’t ever want to be with anyone but you.”

Yamaguchi rolls onto his side. He regards Kei with an open, expectant stare, like he thinks Kei will jump up and yell ‘SIKE! Really had you going there didn’t I, stupid?’ and sprint from the room. Kei holds his gaze. Yamaguchi finally pulls Kei’s glasses from his face and sets them on the bedside table. He returns to Kei and with a gentle hand, presses Kei’s shoulder to the bed. He leans over him and kisses him slowly. Their noses bump together but neither of them care. The wet slurp of their lazy mouths together is melodic in Kei’s ears. He hums in disappointment when Yamaguchi pulls back. Kei watches hungrily as Yamaguchi wipes spit from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I can’t believe I get to be with you,” Yamaguchi admits quietly. “It’s all I want.”

Kei smiles, wide and unabashed. Yamaguchi blushes and traces the curve of it with his index finger.

“Your pants are still a mess,” he tells Kei soon after.

“Yeah.”

“Let me help.”

Yamaguchi rises to his knees and flips his t-shirt over his head. Kei eyes the smooth, tight skin of his stomach in appreciation. The muscles in his abdomen shift under bronzed skin when Yamaguchi leans to undo Kei’s belt. There’s a faint zip Kei barely registers due to the location of Yamaguchi’s hands.

“Hips,” he says.

Kei lifts them and Yamaguchi slides his jeans down over his thighs. He doesn’t miss the quick swipe of Yamaguchi’s tongue over wet, pink lips. He grunts unintelligibly. Yamaguchi hums back and lowers himself to place a slow kiss on each of Kei’s hips. It takes all of Kei’s willpower not to jerk them upward, to feel the flat of Yamaguchi’s chest against his dick with only one thin layer of cloth in between.

“Love them,” Yamaguchi sighs into Kei’s pale skin before leaning away.

The feeling of Yamaguchi’s calloused hands gripping them and moving them as he liked will be forever fresh in Kei’s mind. Excitement swoops hastily through his lower abdomen at the mere thought. Kei whispers Yamaguchi’s name and brings one of his hands to rest low on his own stomach. Yamaguchi stutters at the sight. He shakes his head as if to clear it and sets about his mission once more. Kei could care less about the drying cum in his pants, but at least it brings Yamaguchi closer to him.

Yamaguchi pulls Kei’s jeans completely off. They sag to the floor next to his shirt, Yamaguchi’s DS, and the book. A telltale shudder twitches in Yamaguchi’s delicate fingers as they fumble with the waistband of Kei’s boxers. His fingernails gently catch the fine blond hairs there when he tugs them down. Yamaguchi has closed his mouth in a tight line and Kei thinks that his heavy breathing is almost more erotic when forced only through his nose. Five more seconds of that and Kei’s hips jerk upward by the slightest degree. Yamaguchi notices, of course Yamaguchi notices; his wide eyes bore into every inch of Kei’s skin from his navel to his knees. Kei squirms at the undivided attention.

Yamaguchi rips his eyes from him and wraps the white t-shirt around his hand. He carefully wipes the mess from Kei’s half-hard cock and boxers. At first, it does more harm than help, but eventually he’s able to clean Kei up at least modestly. The white fabric rubs against his dick—there’s really no way to avoid it—and Kei huffs out a sudden sigh. Yamaguchi flips the t-shirt inside out and tosses it with the other discarded items of he and Kei’s evening. It hits the hardwood floor with a soft sound.

“Bet—ah, better?” Yamaguchi asks with effort.

“Yes. Thanks.”

He leans his chest onto Kei’s and presses their mouths together in a soft, dry kiss. He moves back and Kei follows him so they’re both sitting up. Quickly and as an afterthought, he tucks himself back into his boxers. Yamaguchi’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Kei shifts so he sits on his knees, mirroring Yamaguchi’s position. He pulls them together with a hand on the back of Yamaguchi’s neck. Yamaguchi stutters monosyllabic nonsense as Kei places wet kisses down the side of it.

He licks just above Yamaguchi’s collarbone and pulls the skin there into his mouth. He runs his tongue over the same place again and again and threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of Yamaguchi’s neck. Kei retraces his trail of kisses and complements each peck with a slight suck as well. His teeth ache to participate but he holds back. Kei feels all ten of Yamaguchi’s fingertips as they scrabble against his chest.

“Tsukki—ah, yeah, yeah. I really—shit—I really like that, okay? Can you—mmmm,” rumbles Yamaguchi, voice rough as if being dragged over gravel as the words leave his mouth.

Kei returns to his original spot and presses the fingertips of his free hand along Yamaguchi’s collarbone, continuing to suck the purpling skin above it. Yamaguchi’s palm rubs slowly, back and forth and back and forth, across Kei’s lower stomach. Kei gives a breathy grunt, huffing warm air against the cool, slick spit on Yamaguchi’s neck. Yamaguchi subsequently lolls his head back. His body’s nearly slack under Kei’s mouth. Even his hand falls from Kei’s stomach.

Kei loses himself for a minute. He licks at the bruise he’s formed on tan, inviting skin before giving in and biting at it, teeth nipping not-so-gently at the color there. Yamaguchi stiffens noticeably; his eyes fly open, wide and unblinking. His mouth pulls into a tight line.

“Oh god, I—” Kei cuts himself off and rests his forehead on Yamaguchi’s shoulder, unable to pull completely away. “I’m sorry, Tadashi, I didn’t mean to—I guess I’d been wanting to, uh—but I should have asked y—”

Kei stops abruptly and looks up to watch as Yamaguchi shakes his head violently. Without a word, he takes Kei’s hand and presses it to his boxers, right over the outline of his dick. He whines desperately at the contact. The warm, hard pressure of it against Kei’s palm has his own cock leaking against the fabric of his dirty boxers.

“You’re so hard,” Kei marvels.

Yamaguchi whines again. He quickly nods his head, eyes shut tight. Human speech seems to have escaped him for the time being. Kei tells himself to remember that spot on his neck, but quickly realizes he won’t have to. It will be black and purple for days to come. A fire ignites in his chest. He rotates his wrist and his palm spins slowly over Yamaguchi’s bulge. They both suck in a short gasp.

Yamaguchi snatches Kei’s wrist and brings his hand to lay flat on his chest. He grunts a little at the loss of specific contact, even though it’s of his own doing. He drags Kei’s hand down his chest. But Kei doesn’t need to be coaxed. He splays his pale fingers over the darker skin of Yamaguchi’s stomach and hums in appreciation, memorizing each twitch of muscle there as he slides his hand further down. He’s nearly to the waistband of his boxers but again, Yamaguchi redirects him. This time, to his mouth.

Kei furrows his brow but then Yamaguchi slides his ring finger into his mouth and he has no option but to sigh with pleasure. Kei’s own mouth goes dry at the feeling but Yamaguchi’s is warm, no, hot and wet, so wet. Yamaguchi swirls his tongue around Kei’s finger to the first knuckle.

“Always wanted to do this,” he confesses, though it’s muffled.

He then pulls it from his mouth—Kei’s hand twitches in Yamaguchi’s face—and kisses each of his fingertips. Kei practically whimpers. His free hand comes forward to palm himself through his boxers. Yamaguchi watches him for a minute, brown eyes dark and half-lidded with desire.

“I’ve got you, Kei,” he soothes, “come over here.”

Kei’s hand stills and he follows Yamaguchi to the edge of the bed. He drops his legs over the side as per Yamaguchi’s instruction. He pulls Kei in for a chaste, sweet kiss before he drops to his knees on the floor in front of him. He carefully tugs Kei’s boxers down. They pool around his ankles.

“Uh—I—Tadashi,” Kei mumbles at the sight. “Have you ever…”

“Of course not. Never really wanted to.”

Kei wants to leap to his feet, to put his underwear back on, to pull Yamaguchi up and tell him he never, ever has to do this if that’s the case.

But then Yamaguchi finishes breathlessly, “Until you.”

What eclipses the sight of Yamaguchi on his knees in front of his hard, leaking cock is the feeling when he takes the flushed head of it into his mouth. Kei will be shocked if he lasts more than thirty seconds. It’s pure, blazing, all-encompassing heat. It spreads up his legs, swirls in circles around his stomach, and squeezes his chest in its searing, satisfying grip. Yamaguchi moves further down, dragging wet lips over sensitive skin. Kei’s fingertips grab helplessly at his thighs. He leaves small red streaks all over himself.

He wishes he still had his glasses on so he could see every millimeter Yamaguchi’s mouth stretches to accommodate him. He wants to watch every bead of sweat that trails past his freckles. He longs to discover new shades of brown in the widening irises of Yamaguchi’s eyes.

“Shit,” he hisses when Yamaguchi teases his fingers along the bottom of Kei’s thighs.

Kei splays his hand face up by the edge of the bed. Yamaguchi twists their fingers together, his thumb petting over Kei’s. Yamaguchi bobs his head and Kei swears again. Pleasure pulses through him. He spares himself this time and clenches the fingers of the hand that’s not holding Yamaguchi’s into the bedspread beneath him. Kei drags his eyes along the protrusion of Yamaguchi’s collarbone, lingering on the bruise nearby for a few seconds. He watches him hollow his cheeks as he takes Kei deeper into his mouth and sucks him harder.

“Tadashi, Tadashi, Yamaguchi, feels amazing, ah—indescribable, you…”

Yamaguchi rubs his tongue on the underside of Kei’s dick with intent. Kei full-out moans and Yamaguchi’s eyes flick up to watch. He wrestles his hand from Kei’s grip to stroke the very base of him and Kei moans again, louder. Satisfying flames lick him all over, scorching his skin and leaving Kei numb to anything but the wet heat of Yamaguchi’s mouth as it works. He tears himself from the haze that nearly clouds his vision—he’s really, really close—and looks past Yamaguchi’s face to see his hand under the waistband of his boxers. He’s stroking himself, Kei sees now, hand moving fast and erratically at the same pace he strokes Kei.

“Really close,” Kei warns through his panting, “you’re so good!”

He comes the very second Yamaguchi moans around his dick due to his own hand down his pants.

Kei sits for another minute, dazed. A whimper from Yamaguchi, still on his knees on the floor, returns him to earth. Kei moves back onto the bed after pulling his boxers over his sensitive cock. The fabric catches on Yamaguchi’s spit that resides there and Kei shivers.

“Tadashi, come here, please.”

“Y-yeah, Tsukki,” he pants.

He stands with effort and climbs onto the bed next to Kei. He lies down at his side. Kei loses his breath when Yamaguchi pushes his erection into his hip. The resulting sigh of the freckled boy next to him tapers off with a soft grunt and dull, resilient waves of pleasure roll through Kei’s body.

“Need you, Kei,” Yamaguchi pleads and presses himself into Kei’s side once more.

“Anything for you. I mean it.”

Yamaguchi’s breathy tone has him drooling already. It’s easy for Kei to lick a wide zigzag across his palm and up four of his fingers. Yamaguchi watches him, mesmerized, but his eyes fall closed when Kei pulls him from his boxers and strokes him base to tip, a slow and steady rhythm over solid, flushed skin. Yamaguchi’s leaking so heavily that Kei’s spit was probably unnecessary. White beads drip onto Kei’s comforter beneath them. Kei swirls his thumb around the slicked head and Yamaguchi fucks into Kei’s hand, hips jutting forward without warning.

“Yeah,” Kei encourages.

“You’re so hot,” Yamaguchi responds quickly. The words fall from his mouth as if they’ve been hanging on the tip of his tongue for a while now. He squirms in Kei’s grip and goes on, “So hot—ah, Kei—everyone wants you but I, I get to have you and—really good. Kei, Tsukki, you’re mine.”

Kei quickens his strokes on Yamaguchi, pulling a moan from behind clenched white teeth.

“Yours,” Kei confirms vehemently, “that’s right.”

“Mhm, yeah, wait, can I just—Can I just—Tsu-kki…”

Kei’s about to ask—or rather answer: yes, of course you can, I don’t care what it is, please go ahead, Tadashi—but all potential replies crumble to dust when Yamaguchi turns on his side and ruts into Kei’s thigh. Kei’s arms subsequently start to shiver. He braces them around Yamaguchi’s waist. Yamaguchi takes the hint and moves forward again, humping into Kei’s thigh once more.

Kei’s eyes nearly roll back in his head; Yamaguchi’s dick drags wide circles in the pre-cum it’s leaked there. It slides against Kei’s pale, supple thigh with almost criminal ease. Yamaguchi throws his arms around Kei’s neck and whines and whines and whines into the skin just below his ear whenever he so much as moves an inch. The inflection of his voice is so naughty, Kei thinks, all breathy and high-pitched and laced with absolute desperation. Yamaguchi tucks his ankle around Kei’s and digs his solid warmth into the soft, slippery skin of his slicked thigh, this time staying right up against him for a few seconds. Kei yelps when Yamaguchi suddenly ruts into him again.

“Yeah?” he whimpers as Kei’s arms clench around his middle.

“Yes!” Kei answers with enthusiasm. “Yes, Tadashi, god, it’s really good.”

Yamaguchi raises a hand to twitch on Kei’s red cheek as he comes.

Kei kisses him through it, distracted by the cooling warmth on his thigh but trying his best to keep his lips soft and pliable. Yamaguchi shakes against him. He ignores the swooping heat that settles low in his stomach; seeing Yamaguchi like this, hearing him, feeling his body in its most vulnerable state makes him absolutely weak. He could go again—he’s seventeen, after all—but pushes that particular yearning to the back of his mind.

Yamaguchi breaks the kiss and opts instead to peck at the corner of Kei’s mouth. Kei grins into it. Yamaguchi leans forward and kisses his teeth before grinning back.

“You okay?”

Yamaguchi hums. “Ask me in about two weeks when I can feel my legs again.”

Notes:

//////HIDES IN CORNER/////

///.....peeks out from corner to read your comments...///

Chapter 18: i loved you then and i love you now, pt. II

Notes:

it's been a fucking ride, i can tell you guys that much. never would i ever have expected this fic to make it over SEVENTY-THOUSAND WORDS. this final upload is so, so bittersweet. i'm gonna throw a few links at you before you get to reading the very final chapter.

art made for campfire in your chest:
★  ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  ★  ★
★ ★

other stuff:
cfiyc 8tracks playlist
my cfiyc tag on tumblr

take a deep breath. you're almost done. happy, happy, happy reading, everyone!

from: Akiteru

subject: Yo

We r on our way home!!

 

from: Akiteru

subject: Yo

Just thought I should let u know

 

from: Akiteru

subject: Yo

Bc of reasons

_______

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely so, Kei! You have to believe!”

“Ridiculous. That guy is five-foot eight, at most.”

“Do I have to google this shit?”

“Do it. Don’t do it. Either way—”

“Where’s my phone?” asks Akiteru, frantically searching between the couch cushions.

“—it’s impossible for him to have jumped that. If this movie was even marginally realistic, he’d be in the water below and the bridge would have been drawn already,” Kei claims. “Even if he did manage to miraculously make it near the bridge—”

“He did make it—”

“—he would have just ricocheted off the side. If even that.”

Watching action movies with Akiteru is Kei’s punishment for bailing on dinner. Which is fine, because he should probably spend some time with his brother before he leaves anyways. Their mother had gone to bed hours ago after giving all three of them—Kei, Akiteru, and Yamaguchi—kisses on the forehead. Kei wanted to be embarrassed but he's just too content. He figures that two Yamaguchi-induced orgasms within the span of a single hour will do that to a person. He looks forward to testing (and testing and testing and testing) this theory in the future.

He bites his lip as the man on the screen slides over the hood of a jet black car before hastily occupying the driver’s seat. Kei thinks of the plastic bag of soiled clothing stashed in his desk drawer. He’ll wait until Akiteru goes to sleep to stick them in the washer. Yamaguchi had to borrow some of his clothes and the navy blue shirt swallows him, but Kei had refused to give him anything smaller because this way, he gets to ogle Yamaguchi’s collarbones when the shirt shrugs on his shoulders.

“I think Tadashi’s laying on my phone.”

“Do you need it?” Kei asks.

“I was—”

“For anything other than trying to prove me wrong? Which is futile, in any case.”

“Smartass,” Akiteru insists, “I’ll replace your shampoo with battery acid.”

“Do it.”

Yamaguchi is sprawled on the couch between the two of them, his legs in Kei’s lap. A string of drool runs from the corner of his mouth onto the cushion under his head. Kei runs his fingers lightly down Yamaguchi’s calf. His foot twitches in his sleep. Kei bites back a dopey grin.

“Thanks, uh,” he mutters, “for the texts earlier.”

Akiteru’s eyes don’t stray from the television. “Sure thing, little brother.”

“Mom told you,” concludes Kei.

“You know she can’t keep secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.”

Akiteru turns to look at him. Kei stares blankly as the car on the screen crashes into an expensive-looking fountain. Pieces of the windshield fly toward the driver’s face in slow motion. Yamaguchi’s foot twitches once more in his lap.

“Okay,” says Akiteru slowly. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

Kei winces. “I know. Sorry.”

The car is thrown into reverse and speeds away, completely functional. Kei decides he hates action movies more than anything. He adjusts his glasses and glances at Akiteru.

“…You don’t think it’s weird?” he asks his brother.

There’s an uncomfortable pause that almost makes Kei regret saying anything in the first place.

“The only reason it’d be weird is because I’ve known the kid since he was, like, ten.”

Kei hums in lieu of a response.

“And now you guys are bumping uglies.”

“What?”

“Knocking boots.”

“Stop.”

“Mingling limbs.”

“Akiteru.”

“Bandicooting.”

Kei sighs, “You get one more.”

Akiteru taps at his chin in thought.

He goes with, “Fucking.”

Kei throws his hands over his face and his brother laughs at him. Kei momentarily wonders how they share the same DNA. He peeks through his fingers when Akiteru leans across Yamaguchi to place a gentle hand on Kei’s shoulder.

“But seriously, Kei. I’m happy for you guys.” Akiteru furrows his brow and asks, “Does that sound lame?”

“Yes.”

“Well, fine. It’s lame but true. Besides, I love Tadashi.”

“Me too,” Kei tells him.

Akiteru smiles slowly. His smiles are always so genuine and bright. They make Kei feel like a little kid again; he’s eleven and he’s just told his big brother that he aced his math test. Akiteru pats his hand on Kei’s shoulder before he lets it fall.

“Too bad you guys don’t have any matches before I leave. I could’ve seen you play.”

Kei lets himself grin. “Yeah,” he agrees.

“How many matches in a box?” mumbles Yamaguchi, face down on the couch cushion.

Kei tells him, “Twenty.”

“Twenty,” Yamaguchi repeats sleepily, “I’ll serve twenty…twenty in a pinch.”

“Okay, Yamaguchi.”

“What’s he talking about?” Akiteru chuckles.

“No idea. I think he’s asleep.”

At that, Yamaguchi rises with a slow inhale. He retracts his legs from Kei’s lap and tucks them to his chest. Pulling his sleeve over his hand, Kei wipes the drool from Yamaguchi’s chin. Yamaguchi looks at him then, eyes tired and dilated in the darkness of Kei’s living room, and Kei just wants to stare at his face forever. The television in front of the couch flickers blue and yellow over the smooth skin of his cheek. He grins fondly like he reads Kei’s thoughts.

“I’m up. I’m up, Tsukki.”

“You could’ve stayed asleep.”

“Yeah,” agrees Akiteru. He pulls his phone out from under Yamaguchi’s foot and adds, “It’s nearly one in the morning.”

“Did that lady get in the car with the muscles guy?”

“That was two movies ago,” Kei says.

Akiteru answers, “Yeah, they drove off into the sunset.”

“No way,” Yamaguchi whines, “what about her career? She had it all going for her.”

“That’s what I said!”

“And who’s going to take care of her cat? Did she sell her penthouse?”

“That’s some prime real estate, I hope she didn’t just leave it there to rot.”

“You two are freaks,” Kei tells them, standing from the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

“But the movie’s only halfway over!” his brother complains.

“We have to get up for school in six hours.”

“Fine. But you’re finishing it with me tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Kei deadpans.

Akiteru beams and clicks off the television, enveloping the room in darkness. He stands from the couch and stretches. Kei takes his glasses off to rub at his eyes. Yamaguchi yawns.

“Come on, Tadashi. I’ll drive you home.”

Kei sputters, “What? No. He’s staying here. Er, ah—if he wants to, I mean.”

Yamaguchi looks up at him from the couch like, what the fuck do you think?

“Is mom cool with that?” Akiteru says after a second.

“I don’t know,” Kei answers.

Akiteru shrugs. “Good enough for me.”

“I’ve always loved you, Akiteru!” Yamaguchi insists with a smile.

The swell of envy that waves through Kei makes him feel pathetic.

“You too, buddy. Goodnight, you guys.”

“Goodnight.”

______

 Akiteru grabs Kei in the hallway after they brush their teeth.

“If I hear one peep,” he whispers, “you’re paying for my brain replacement surgery.”

______

 
Yamaguchi stands by Kei’s desk and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“You sure you want me to stay?” he asks in a small voice.

“What?” Kei says, not looking up from where he puts his notebook into his backpack. “Yes. If I have to be away from you tonight, I might literally die, Yamaguchi. My brain might explode. Then I’ll be a vegetable and you’ll have to take care of me for the rest of our lives. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“Yes,” snickers Yamaguchi, “but maybe not the dying part. Or the vegetable part.”

“Those were all of the parts, Yamaguchi.”

He yawns. “Oh, right.”

“I really want you to stay,” Kei emphasizes.

The collar of Yamaguchi’s (Kei’s) shirt falls when he shrugs and Kei eyes the beautiful discoloration it reveals. His eyes travel up his neck to find Yamaguchi’s, big and glinting as he stares him down.

“What?” Kei wonders.

“You’re being so candid with me.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Before…I mean, before we confessed, I always felt like there were things you’d keep from me,” Yamaguchi mumbles, “things you were thinking or that you felt that you wouldn’t say. I could see them on your face.”

Yamaguchi’s right, of course; Kei can hardly recall most of the thoughts he’s left unsaid for the pure fact that there have been so fucking many. A spotlight streams into his bedroom and focuses solely on him. His hands find each other in his lap. He twists his fingers together, unsure of how to react. Kei is afraid that if he verbalizes all his unspoken thoughts from the last few months, Yamaguchi will collapse under their weight. The love inside him makes Kei feel heavy.

“There are myriads of things,” Kei confesses quietly, “that I didn’t say.”

“You can say them now,” Yamaguchi reassures and Kei nods mutely. “I mean, you had a crush on me for four months, Tsukki, and there’s probably—”

Kei stops him, befuddled.

“What?” he asks. “A crush? Is that what you think this is?”

Yamaguchi blushes from head to toe and struggles, “Well, for—for lack of a, uh—better word.”

Kei stands from the bed and goes to him. He wraps Yamaguchi in his arms slowly, letting them wind protectively around his middle. Yamaguchi turns to rest his ear against Kei’s collarbone. Kei feels the heat from his flushed face through his shirt. He keeps his arms tight around him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you flustered.”

“’S fine,” Yamaguchi whispers.

“I don’t even know what a crush feels like. But I know this isn’t it. Yamaguchi…” Kei trails off. He presses his face into Yamaguchi’s hair and tries again, “Yamaguchi, this is all-encompassing. It—it overwhelms me, what I feel for you. Okay?”

Yamaguchi nods and his hands come up to rest flat on Kei’s chest.

“And my…lack of a better word for you has been going on a hell of a lot longer than these last few months.”

Kei breathes him in and thinks of Yamaguchi in his lap, pressing Kei’s hand over his racing heart. Since we were small, he’d said, you’ve always done this to me. Kei doesn’t ever want Yamaguchi to feel insecure, and least of all about what they have with one another. Kei is insecure enough for the both of them. He’s willing to carry that weight.

I love you, Kei thinks as he squeezes Yamaguchi tighter, I’m in love with you, Tadashi, and I want to write your name in the night sky with all the twinkling stars I can gather. Then I’d rearrange them to match the pattern of your freckles; my favorite earthbound constellations.

He should just say this out loud. He knows he should. A slow intake of breath rises in his chest.

“That one night,” Kei says instead, “we went to the park with the others, I was going to tell you something right before you fell asleep. You told me not to. Remember?”

“Tell me now,” Yamaguchi warbles.

“I like you in my bed, too.”

Yamaguchi pats his hands against Kei’s chest softly. “Again.”

Kei grins into his hair. A gentle chill of satisfaction runs up his spine.

“I like you in my bed.”

When they pull back, Yamaguchi’s face is wet. Kei is alarmed but Yamaguchi shushes him, pulling his sleeve up to wipe his cheeks. He then cups Kei’s face in his cold hands. He kisses him one, two, three times. They are chaste but deliberate. Yamaguchi grins up at him, eyes wide and watery.

“You like me in your bed,” he whispers, “so let’s go.”

Yamaguchi pulls him by the hand and they crawl under Kei’s covers. Kei only leans away to take off his glasses and kill the lamp on his bedside table. A rectangle of moonlight cascades over the bed. They lie facing each other, holding an easy gaze. The silence is comfortable. It soothes them. Kei hears each soft breath Yamaguchi takes in and lets out.

Don’t get a boner, Kei pleads with himself, this is too romantic.

There’s a shuffling sound. Yamaguchi’s hands search underneath the blanket. After a few seconds—Kei waits with bated breath—Yamaguchi tugs at both the collar and the hem of his shirt. Kei does his best to smoothly shimmy out of it when Yamaguchi pulls it from him. His skin tingles as Yamaguchi wriggles nearer. The whole time, Yamaguchi holds his gaze, pupils blown due to the darkness and looking into Kei’s eyes like if he blinks, he’ll disappear. His body heat is direct sunlight on Kei’s bare skin.

Yamaguchi starts to touch him. His calloused palms rub over Kei’s exposed skin; down his chest, over the curves of his shoulders, around his waist to climb up his back. They rub in small, slow circles over Kei’s flat stomach. It’s an absolute sweet spot for him, one that Yamaguchi seems to favor as well. That alone makes Kei squeeze his eyes shut. A soft sound falls from his parted lips. Yamaguchi’s hands still right under his navel.

“Feels so good, Yamaguchi, right there,” he gasps.

“Yeah, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi breathes in return.

His palm makes one more lazy circle on Kei’s lower stomach and then halts abruptly. Yamaguchi pulls his hands to his own chest and looks pointedly away from Kei’s questioning stare. Kei’s leg twitches involuntarily at the loss of warmth and contact on sensitive skin.

“You stopped,” he says dumbly.

“Mm—‘m getting hard,” he admits softly, “and we have to sleep.”

Kei is halfway there himself; a delayed result of merely crawling into bed with Yamaguchi in the first place. We can sleep when we’re dead, Tadashi, he wants to say. Then again, his family is already being entirely too casual about the situation and Kei won’t push his luck. He wills his heart to slow down though Yamaguchi’s words have it vibrating a rut into his ribcage. They take a couple deep breaths in unison.

“Right,” he says finally.

“Right,” parrots Yamaguchi. “Can I be the big spoon?”

“The what?”

“You know, the one in back.”

I’ve been waiting so long to cuddle with you, Tadashi, I don’t give a fuck how we do it, Kei thinks, and then he rethinks himself and says it out loud too. Yamaguchi beams. The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the word cuddle,” he fawns.

Kei looks at him seriously. “Tadashi, I can’t wait to cuddle with you. You’re so cute. The cutest. I less than three you.”

Yamaguchi smacks a hand on Kei’s chest and brings the other to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Dork!” he accuses in a kind of whisper-shout. “You’re a dork!”

Kei grins through a blush. “Whatever you say, cutie.”

“You’re literally killing me, Tsukki. Now turn the fuck around so I can spoon you.”

Kei snickers and turns onto his other side to face the bedside table. Yamaguchi tucks himself right into Kei’s back, his clothed chest pressed flush against Kei’s bare skin. They both sigh with content until Kei sucks in a sudden breath. He feels Yamaguchi half-hard and comfortable against the curve of his ass and moans without warning. Quickly, Kei tucks his chin to his chest and slaps his hand over his mouth. His wide eyes bore into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Sorry,” Yamaguchi apologizes, out of breath, though he makes no move to lessen the pressure.

Kei figures it’s because if he shuffles backward, the resulting friction will have them both wide awake and panting for at least another two hours. Kei wouldn’t mind that. He really, really wouldn’t. He stays silent because if he opens his mouth, what will fly out is: It’s fine! It’s so, so fine! Hey, want me to take care of that for you? Let me at least touch it, let me feel you warm in my hand. Can I put it in my mouth? Please? Sleep is for the weak, Tadashi, haven’t you heard?

But the hurricane of lecherous thoughts stills mid-cycle when he hears a slight snore, Yamaguchi’s chin resting softly above the highest notch of Kei’s spine. His heart swells in his chest. He really has waited so long for this; so long to be as close to Yamaguchi as he wants, to feel his heart beat against his back and his arm rest loosely over his waist. Kei listens as Yamaguchi’s breathing evens out, knowing full well there will be drool on the back of his neck when he wakes up. The blond hairs above the nape of his neck quiver with Yamaguchi’s soft exhales. It occurs to Kei they hadn’t kissed after lying down. He thinks of the open, longing look they shared, unbroken as they breathed the same air. Kei thinks it is as intimate as kissing; looking at Yamaguchi like that with nothing to hide. Kei breathes easy. He takes Yamaguchi’s hand in his.

Even in his sleep, Yamaguchi weaves their fingers together.

______

“No kissing on the court,” Ennoshita dictates just before Karasuno’s next official match.

“Yes!” the huddled team shouts back out of habit.

A moment passes and everyone except the second-years turns to blink at each other.

“Didn’t we already have this discussion like, two weeks ago?” asks Tanaka.

“Yeah,” supplies Nishinoya, “I remember because Kageyama got, like, disturbingly red and stopped breathing! Yamaguchi tried to bring him the AED!”

“What a good day,” Kei recalls.

“Chikara, I bet that wouldn’t be a rule if your girlfriend was on this team.”

“My girlfriend wouldn’t be on this boy’s volleyball team because she is a girl.”

“We could make an exception for her,” Yamaguchi adds politely.

“Is she good at volleyball too, Captain?” asks Yushin.

Ennoshita quiets them with a raise of his hand. The squeak of sneakers erupts in the gymnasium as the other team takes the court. He clears his throat.

“Just…no kissing, dunderheads. It’s pretty simple.”

“We know,” says Kageyama.

“Yeah, they know. Wait,” states Tanaka, “are more people on this team dating each other?”

Nishinoya hops in place. “Oh my god, who?!”

Ten pairs of eyes rotate around the huddle and Kei resists the urge to wring his hands. Instead, he adjusts his glasses and watches Yamaguchi stare hard at the glossy gym floor. Kei’s eyes fall to the white seven, bold against the black fabric. He’s always liked the way Yamaguchi looks in his jersey. Though he does sort of miss the twelve from last year.

“Us,” Kei reveals, finding it unnecessary to specify.

Yamaguchi makes a surprised sound and whips his head up. His bangs fly off his forehead with the force of it and his tan cheeks burn a bright pink. Kei would give him a grin if everyone weren’t currently staring at him, their mouths agape. The awkward silence is broken—of course—by Nishinoya.

“Nice,” he compliments and claps his hands, “holy shit!”

“Tsukishima?” Tanaka marvels.

Kei’s unsure if Tanaka’s tone is a result of the information he’s been presented with or the fact that Kei himself was the one to reveal it. Kei and Yamaguchi share a look like, is it really that surprising? and at Ennoshita’s side, Kinoshita smirks as if he’d thought it all along (which he had, Kei realizes belatedly). Yamaguchi breaks their eye contact when the third-years crowd around him.

Tanaka continues, “I knew it! You guys have always had that secret little language of yours.”

“Did you really know?” Yamaguchi wonders doubtfully.

“With the looks and the inside jokes and the nickname,” Nishinoya lists.

Yamaguchi stumbles when Hinata practically leaps onto his shoulders.

“See, Yama,” he rejoices, “it wasn’t me who spilled the beans! Are you proud, huh, are you?”

“So proud, Shouyou!”

“I can’t believe Tsukishima’s getting some and I’m not,” complains the ace.

Kei finally blushes and looks to Ennoshita for help.

“Enough,” the captain dictates, but there’s a half-smile on his face that takes the punch from it. He goes on, “Just don’t kiss on the court. That was the point of this entire discussion. Leave it to you guys to drag it out like this.”

“What if they make a really good block?”

“Oh my god,” Kei sputters.

Nishinoya and Tanaka explode at Yamaguchi’s inquiry, leaning into each other for support and holding their sides. Kageyama nods like he’d been thinking the very same thing.

“Or set a really good toss?” Hinata supplements with hopeful eyes.

Fuck it, Kei thinks with a grin.

“What if they perform the perfect service ace?” he adds.

Ennoshita groans exasperatedly but looks off to the side like he’s actually considering it.

“Only if it’s a really good serve,” he decides after a few seconds. “Or a really good toss. Or a really fucking good block. Like, takes-us-to-nationals level of good. And no tongue. One unworthy kiss and you’re running laps, motherfuckers.”

Tanaka bellows with laughter and Nishinoya flits across the circle to give Kei’s arm several excited punches. Even Kageyama looks like he’s having a relatively good time. Kei ruffles Nishinoya’s hair, but only because he knows he hates it. A whistle is blown and the team members regain themselves at Ennoshita’s word.

The subsequent game is jovial and played in good spirits, and Karasuno still crushes Ougiminami in the first set and dominates the second with a twelve point lead. Yamaguchi huddles closer to Kei on the sidelines when he’s switched out for Hinata. Kei huffs, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He pulls on his jersey to cool himself down and watches as Hinata and Kageyama high-five with both hands after a perfectly executed quick. At his side, Yamaguchi cheers for them like he always does.

“Would you really kiss me during a game if I did a good jump float?” he asks Kei a minute later.

“I’d kiss you even if you served it straight into the back of the head.”

“Tsukki! Have some faith in me!”

Kei takes a step back from where Kinoshita, Yushin, and the other first-years stand by the front line. He absently wonders when Yamaguchi had told Ennoshita, but Kei decides it doesn’t really matter. He pulls Yamaguchi to his side by the sleeve of his jersey and looks down at him seriously.

“I should have asked you before I told everyone,” he admits.

Yamaguchi shakes his head.

“You did exactly what I hoped you’d do.”

The soft smile on his face makes Kei curl his fingers into his palms to prevent himself from reaching out. The grin Kei gives him in return has Yamaguchi blushing. The slap of a spiked volleyball reverberates through the gym and they both look back to the court.

______

Kei walks down the hallway to the courtyard when Hinata nearly slams face-first into him. The squeak of his shoes as he slides on the tile makes Kei cringe. He doubles over, hands on his knees over the tile floor. Kei stares blankly at his mop of wild orange hair.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh?” Hinata pants. “I was coming to find you!”

“And that required sprinting?”

Hinata considers this. “Well, I guess not.”

He spins on his heel and hops at Kei’s side as he walks.

“Hey, Tsukishima.”

“What?”

“You forgive me, right?”

“For what, exactly?” Kei asks, squinting down at him.

“For telling Yamaguchi.”

Kei has been so over the moon for the last week that he’d forgotten Hinata had anything to do with it. Gratitude wells up in his chest as he stares down at the redhead. Hinata’s eyes are big and hopeful, like he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Kei says no. You’re a good friend, thinks Kei.

“I owe you one.”

Hinata blanches and bumps Kei’s thigh with his hip.

“Nah, I owed you one. Y’know, after what you did for me and Kageyama.”

Kei hums. “I suppose you did.”

“Are you happy?” Hinata asks him outright.

Kei knows that anything he could say to that would be extremely honest and sentimental and revealing and most likely embarrassing. So he just nods. Hinata nods back with a grin, content with Kei’s answer. He absolutely beams and drops his books all over the floor when Kageyama comes around the corner.

“Dumbass, what’d you do that for?” Kageyama grumbles even as he picks them up.

“Just excited to see you!”

"You too.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” teases Hinata, “it’s written all over your face.”

Kageyama tentatively presses his free hand to his cheek like his expression is something he can pull away with his fingers. He shifts his arm to settle Hinata’s books in the crook of his elbow as they walk. The sun outside shines in through the windows that line the long hallway.

“Is Yamaguchi outside already?”

“I didn’t see him. That’s why I came to find you guys,” replies Kageyama.

Kei furrows his brow. “I’ll get him. Go get us a table.”

“Fine,” Kageyama says.

He leans down and kisses Hinata on the cheek when he thinks Kei’s already turned the corner.

______

Kei finds Yamaguchi on the walkway that leads to the volleyball gym. In front of him stands Mamiko, skirt shifting around her thighs as she talks with her hands. They’re only talking and yet Kei feels like someone’s sliced him up and scooped him out. His heart echoes as it drops through his hollow body and lands in his feet.

Maybe Yamaguchi’s decided he likes girls better after all. It’s been one week since they confessed and he’s already realized Kei’s not enough for him. He will opt for softer curves and silkier hair. It’s been the best week of the eight hundred and ninety-seven I’ve lived, Kei will tell him when Yamaguchi ends it, and I should’ve told you I loved you that very first day.

It gets harder to stamp down his dramatics the longer he eyes them. Kei watches through the window as Mamiko’s mouth moves, knowing it’s been on Yamaguchi’s the same way his has. They were together for over four weeks and at the moment, she’s probably kissed Yamaguchi more times than Kei has. The realization is hard to shake. Mine, Kei thinks as he regards the the way Yamaguchi's shoulders shake when he laughs. He figures he can add possessive to his expansive list of bad traits. The blank page of good ones weighs heavy like lead in the notebook in his backpack. His hands clench and unclench at his sides as he stares at the space between their faces, trying to calculate the exact amount of inches. But Kei’s too far away. It’s impossible.

“Tsukki?”

Kei turns to his name. Yamaguchi has reentered the school and stands in front of the great grey doors.

“Tsukki, wha—whoa, hey, are you okay? Jesus,” Yamaguchi squeaks, “what happened to you?”

He pulls Kei by the arm into the boys bathroom down the hall. Yamaguchi checks the stalls before coming to stand in front of Kei by the sinks. He worries over him with his hands. When Kei stays silent, Yamaguchi cups his face, palms icy as usual.

“What’s going on?” he asks. He pets lightly over Kei’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“You and Matsuda-san,” croaks Kei.

Yamaguchi cocks his head. “Huh?”

“I saw you talking and I guess I just…”

“Just what?”

Kei shrugs helplessly. Yamaguchi lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, concern splashing over his features.

Kei meets his eyes. “Completely and utterly.”

Yamaguchi winces.

“Mamiko was just apologizing to me.” He pauses for a moment. “She said she shouldn’t have gotten so mad at me when I broke up with her. Not like I blame her though, and she said that—that as long as I’m happy, she is. You probably think that’s lame, huh, Tsukki?”

“Not at all," Kei decides.

If Yamaguchi was happy with Mamiko, really and truly happy, Kei would’ve eventually just dealt with it the same way Mamiko is. But he wasn’t.

“When you were dating her,” Kei mutters, “I was so fucking jealous. She got to do everything with you—to you—that I wanted. I mean, I had to watch you guys kiss. I wanted to do that. Every time I saw you, every minute, and…”

“And what? You think I still want her?” questions Yamaguchi.

Kei gives another weak shrug and Yamaguchi scoffs at him.

“Kei, no. No, no, no, no, no. Why do you think I was ever with her in the first place? Don’t shrug at me again. You know why, Tsukki, come on.”

“Because I said we could only be friends,” Kei answers.

“Yeah. I dated her ‘cause I couldn’t be yours.”

Mine, Kei repeats to himself. The word dizzies him and simultaneously warms him up, wrapping around his body and refusing to let go. Kei steps closer to Yamaguchi and hangs his head to rest on his shoulder.

“But I knew I’d never get over you,” Yamaguchi continues. “Look at you, Tsukki. You’re everything I ever wanted. The only way I’d ever be with another person is if you somehow got cloned and I was put in one of those cliché which-one-do-I-shoot-you-both-look-like-Tsukki situations. And I accidentally shot the wrong one.”

“Is my clone in this scenario evil?” Kei mumbles into the black fabric of Yamaguchi’s gakuran.

“I don’t know, Tsukki. Sure.”

“Why else would you be trying to shoot him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I saw you guys making out.”

“Making out with my identical clone?”

“Mm,” Yamaguchi hums, “I actually wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

Kei huffs a laugh and rests his hand on the nape of Yamaguchi’s neck. Yamaguchi swoops forward and places a kiss just below Kei's ear. He runs his fingers up and down his back. Kei shivers into the touch.

“So don’t be jealous.”

“I’ll try.”

“Try your best,” Yamaguchi orders.

“Okay.”

“Because I was with her for one month—”

“Thirty-one days,” Kei interjects.

Yamaguchi brings his hands to Kei’s face once more and lifts it so he looks at him.

“You were counting?”

Kei nods and Yamaguchi kisses him hard, lips pliable but insistent, squishing Kei’s cheeks between his hands. Kei groans at the sensation but it’s over just as it started. It leaves his head in a pleasant spin.

“I was with her for one month,” Yamaguchi says, “and I’m gonna be with you for forever.”

“For forever?” Kei repeats.

“I’m not going to break up with you,” he tells Kei matter-of-factly. His brow furrows. “Are you going to break up with me?”

“No. Never.”

They smile at each other, wide and unabashed. Kei uses his hand on the back of Yamaguchi’s neck to press their foreheads together. This is it, Kei thinks, tell him now, he wants to hear it. He’s waiting to hear it.

“Hey, uh. I really love you, Tadashi.”

The words bounce off the bathroom walls and Kei realizes this is certainly not where he pictured this happening. There are no flowers, no sunsets, no distant symphony of humming cicadas. One of the leaky sinks on the far wall drips. A few tiles under their feet are cracked from constant traffic and there’s a suspicious smudge on the giant mirror right at face height. But to Kei, it’s perfect.

“Finally,” Yamaguchi breathes.

“Huh?” grunts Kei. “What do you mean finally?”

“You tell Hinata, you tell your brother—”

“You heard that?”

“—it was just a matter of time before you told me.” Yamaguchi grins cheekily.

Kei’s face flushes. “I thought you were asleep when I said that to Akiteru.”

“I woke up just in time.”

“You’re a little shit. I love you.”

“I love you, Tsukki! I love you!” Yamaguchi exclaims. He hugs Kei tight around his middle and goes on, “Like, really a lot. My heart’s beating so fast right now I might pass out. Help me, Tsukki.”

“In love with you,” Kei lilts, voice rising and falling with excitement as he nips at Yamaguchi’s neck. “So in love with you, Tadashi. I’m totally, honestly, irreversibly in love with you.”

Yamaguchi holds him there with a hand in Kei's blond hair and laughs giddily into Kei’s collarbone. Yamaguchi wasn’t lying; his heart beats against Kei’s chest like a kick drum. It’s a soundtrack Kei can’t wait to get used to.

“I’m in love with you too, Kei. Probably always have been. For forever.”

“For forever?” he repeats once more into Yamaguchi’s skin.

“For forever, all right.”

They pull back from each other when there’s commotion outside the door. Kei and Yamaguchi sidle out into the hallway past a couple of boys when they enter the bathroom. The hall looks brighter now than it did before. The sun glares through the windows and off the white tile floor and he and Yamaguchi head for the courtyard. Their friends are waiting.

“So you and Mamiko are friends now?” asks Kei.

Yamaguchi hums noncommittally.

“I don’t know about that. No matter what she said, she’s probably still pretty sore. I don’t really see that happening. Besides," he goes on playfully, "I’ll probably be too busy hanging out with my boyfriend, Tsukki. Tsukki. Boyfriend! Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend.”

“I’ve been your boyfriend for a week. Why are you just saying it now?”

“You just said you were my boyfriend!” Yamaguchi gapes.

Kei blinks at him. “I am your boyfriend.”

“I know, but…the word, Tsukki!”

“You are seriously ridiculous.”

Yamaguchi beams and looks at him with expectant copper eyes. Kei sighs in mock exasperation.

“You are a seriously ridiculous boyfriend.”

“Amazing!” Yamaguchi shouts, shooting his arms into the air with glee.

______

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: kei! kei kei! kei!

i can't sleep :< i wish you were in my bed

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

So do I. 

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

tsukkiiiiiii <3

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

Tadashi

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

tsukki <333 do the thing

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

What thing?

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

you know!!

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

pretty please :>

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

...<3.

 

from: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

omg i love you so much..............

 

to: Tadashi★

subject: Re:kei! kei kei! kei!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

_______ 

Kei sits in class and runs his fingers over a mark Yamaguchi left on his neck earlier in the week. He eyes the board with a blank look, successfully unfocused. His thoughts drift to tonight. Yamaguchi’s parents are visiting his grandparents in the mountains, so the house will be empty. Kei can hardly wait to get through the school day. He vibrates in his chair restlessly. From the desk next to him, Yamaguchi looks over. He watches Kei’s leg as it bounces and Kei ogles his freckles in the sunlight that pours over their desks by the window.

He thinks maybe he can burn some of this uncharacteristic energy in afternoon practice. Maybe he’ll push Yamaguchi against the gym wall and make out with him during warm-up so Ennoshita will make him run laps. Probably not a good topic to focus on during class, Kei realizes and opens his notebook, though it is generally a good topic.

He scans the pages as he flips through them: meticulous math notes, two pages of Hinata’s geography notes from when he accidentally put Kei’s notebook in his bag at lunch, more math notes, a page covered in highlighter streaks when Yachi wanted to test their pigmentation, a game of hangman between Kei and Yamaguchi played in the interim between class and practice. It was a very short game. Yamaguchi had chosen the word TSUKKI. Kei flips through page after page after page, knowing with each turn that he nears his least favorite of the entire notebook (which is saying a lot; the mere content of Hinata’s notes is almost as horrible as his jumbled handwriting).

Self-loathing coats him like sweat on an unrelenting summer day. He knows what lies on the other side of the page he stares down at. Gently, he holds its corner between his thumb and forefinger. He wants to look to Yamaguchi—to the one part of himself that he loves—but his stare is glued downward. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and turns the page over.

His leg stills. He expects nothingness. He expects the paper to be stark; snowy; completely blank save for a title at the very top left: GOOD TRAITS.

But this is not what Kei gets.

The page is absolutely smothered in pen marks. Strokes of green, black, and blue ink wind their way over the white paper by way of both letters and drawings. Spirals loop along the perimeter of the page, half-marked by the beginnings and ends of words that required more space. Kei gets dizzy as his eyes follow them. He’s amazed he hadn’t seen all of the ink through the previous page considering its prevalence. He worries his lip as his wide eyes travel across the magnificent, cluttered page, stopping whenever he spies the green of Yamaguchi’s favorite pen.

Witty. Lets me be the big spoon. Gentle. Intelligent. Helps with homework, reads the green ink. Athletic. Really good at volleyball. HOT!! The exclamation points that follow the latter are both flourished with hearts. Kei finds every single green word on the page before he even thinks about the blue and black. Affectionate. Gives me cool-colored hickeys. Insightful. Wise. Great kisser. Trivia God. Endearingly bad at texting, Kei reads. Nice hands. Bubble butt! Prettiest eyes I’ve EVER SEEN. Too humble for your own good. Mature. Encouraging. Really hilarious. Likes to kiss me. Tidy. Calm. Capable. Awesome family. Kei presses his palm flat over his chest, satisfied with the chaotic beat of his heart in this moment. The fingers of his free hand touch the words carefully, like they might fly off the page and disappear if he presses too hard. He memorizes the indents of each individual letter scrawled on the paper underneath his fingertips. He takes a deep breath and finally lets his eyes stray to the other colors.

A lot of the drawings on the page including its perimeter of spirals are blue. Super cool!!! You give me food when you don’t want it! Good listener!! Nice hair! Cool glasses! Thinks I’m smarter than Kageyama! Super cool again!! reads the blue ink. Also in blue are doodles of several suns, houses, stick figures, a fuck ton of volleyballs, and crescent moons. All of the moons are drawn with glasses. Kei actually grins at that. There’s a note near the bottom of the page, Hinata’s awful chicken scratch encased in a wonky circle: Yamaguchi wrote his stuff first so he took up most of the space AND the words, sorry Tsukishima! But you’re really cool, ok?!!

Kei has to avidly search to find the small black lettering tossed in amongst the colorful mess. Kageyama’s contributions are more facts than anything, things like: Tall. Middle blocker. Dating vice captain of volleyball team. Expensive house. Likes Yamaguchi. Except likes has been crossed out with intent and next to it is written LOVES, big and bold, the lines of which have been gone over several times by a rather passionate green pen.

Kei is so elated that he’s looped back around to serene. He feels incredibly light in his chair. When he looks over at Yamaguchi, he finds him already staring back. Yamaguchi covers most of his face with his hand, undoubtedly hiding the needless pink blush on his face. He spreads his tan fingers and Kei admires the smile that peeks through. The mid-morning sunlight sharpens his fond, copper eyes. So in love that he thinks he might up and float straight through the ceiling, Kei smiles back.

He turns back to his notebook when he feels their teacher staring. His fingertips return to graze over the paper, the taunts of the formerly blank page dashed, along with Kei’s insecurities. Amber eyes slide over the dark green ink again and again.

Affectionate. Insightful. Intelligent. Too humble for your own good. Gentle. Capable.

The words are insistent, encouraging.

And for the first time, Kei starts to believe them.

Notes:

i can't express how much fun this has all been. i really do appreciate every single kudos and comment more than you guys could ever imagine. if you've been reading from the beginning, hoo boy thanks a metric fuckton for sticking with me. if you've just read this all in one go, holy shit you're a trooper. take your hats off to those who had to wade through all the angst to make it here. now go read the kagehina counterpart (stay, stay, stay) if you're so inclined. then come yell at me on tumblr.

all that being said, I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU REALLY A LOT AND I SINCERELY HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of campfire in your chest