Chapter Text
The morning came, and so did their regular walk to school. They'd meet at the same intersection each day, Yamaguchi earlier by some 10 minutes. Such wasn't the case today, though.
For the first time in a while, Tsukishima was the first there. For a whole 5 minutes, he was shuffling, wondering whether or not the other had gone on without him.
Until he heard a voice yelling from behind him. Familiar, easy apologies still earnest as ever spilling from Yamaguchi's lips.
“Sorry, Tsukki! I overslept today… I was worried you'd gone on ahead already,” he gasped out, still catching his breath and fixing his wind-swept hair.
“I waited. It's unusual for you to be late in the morning.”
“Good for me, then,” he laughed warmly.
It felt weird to Tsukishima, to be living off of breadcrumbs. Just a laugh—measly compared to what he was used to, but these days he didn't have Yamaguchi in abundance that bordered on overkill. He had them in bits and pieces, in little moments like these when they weren’t seated apart during classes or working their asses off to maintain the newfound Karasuno volleyball team legacy.
“Did you have breakfast yet?” Yamaguchi asked, already unzipping his bag.
Tsukishima looked at him. “Take a wiiiild gander.”
Yamaguchi handed him some strawberry pop tarts. The kind that were clearly homemade, with the filling spilling out and onto the plastic surface of the container.
“This is just a light snack.”
“Where'd you get these?” Tsukishima popped the plastic open.
“My aunt came over a couple days ago,” he explained. “She still thinks I’m the one who likes strawberries.”
“And your father hasn't bothered correcting her?”
Yamaguchi smiled. “He’s just as clueless—he’s under the impression I'm the sweet tooth, when really you've been mooching off of me for years.”
“You've never told me to stop,” he half-heartedly argued. “Are you planning to?”
Yamaguchi just shrugged, legs coming to motion as the sun rose higher and the school got closer.
The first thing they did was run upstairs to their homeroom to drop their bags off.
The second thing they did was run downstairs to get the gym open.
It was already wide open. Kageyama stood in the doorway, back facing them both.
“Kageyama!” Yamaguchi greeted enthusiastically, running over to give the other a high five. “It was your turn to open the gym?”
“Yes, it was,” the boy answered. He glanced at Tsukishima, a silent question from the day before still evident in his gaze.
“Let’s get to work, then,” Yamaguchi said, walking in stride with his vice captain.
Tsukishima sucked in a breath. Yamaguchi turned to look behind, smiling, and he told him, “Help us out with the nets, would you, Tsukki?”
That was enough for now.
Tsukishima mentally noted how long that breadcrumb would last him as he fastened the nets, while Kageyama and Yamaguchi were already talking strategy so early in the morning.
Yamaguchi no longer prodded at Kageyama’s naturally sour and blank expressions—instead, he’d gotten surprisingly sufficient, nearly matching Hinata’s aptitude, at decoding what exactly they meant.
That little breadcrumb, he supposed, was accompanied by the slightest sting of an envious ant.
Before practice began, he chucked the plastic into the trash.