Work Text:
They sit above his hip.
He sees them in the mirror every day but tries to ignore them. The day they’d appeared he’d wanted to scrub them off more than ever.
Mo one wants the words ‘I expected you to be taller by at least this much’ etched onto their skin permanently.
It’s funny in ways that don't make sense.
One of the things that Yaku hates the most is when people make fun of his height. Yes, volleyball is a sport in which height is something rather important, but it isn’t the be all end all.
There are stories of so many people who are his height, or even shorter. They’re known throughout different schools, even after years, their names are still on everyone’s minds. The shoes left to fill are massive, and everyone’s waiting for the next ‘little giant.’
He’s not that though, he has no desire to be that. Being someone else’s successor was never his goal.
He needs to make his own name. He already has one, and he’s slowly growing into the player he wants to be.
He doesn’t particularly like it when people scream his name though, he rathers being in the back, observing plays and figuring out strategies. Whilst being short is considered a crutch, it gives him an opportunity to look at the game with a perspective that many fail to see.
The words emblazoned on his hip highlight his only weakness. He feels weaker than his teammates when they play because of it. Even as Kuroo throws his arms around his shoulders saying ‘don’t mind, don’t mind’ with a light smile on his face frustration creeps in.
There are so many times that he’s cried out of frustration towards his height, there are so many games they could’ve won if only he was taller.
He wishes he wasn’t frustrated at himself. It won’t get him anywhere, and it certainly won’t help him grow any taller.
Another thing that he hates about those words is the fact that they imply that whoever is soulmate is…tall.
They’re much taller than him and that only makes him want to scream.
Rivulets of water that are slowly move down his body, there are small pools caught in his collarbones. The words on his hips peek out from the top of the towel that hangs around his waist, pitch black and he finds himself wishing more than ever that there was simply nothing there.
The door lets out a small creak as it opens. Yaku’s footsteps are light against the floorboards and the door to his parent's room is open enough that he can hear soft snores.
He’s never home early enough for them to be awake, usually, he stays out late training or is pulled into going out with his team members. Free time doesn’t really exist to him anymore, once he’d gone to high school it had all become some type of whirlwind.
It’s always training camps, practice, homework, school paired with socialising.
It’s draining.
He slides the door to his bedroom shut, trying to be as quiet and considerate as possible towards his family.
His bed is still unmade from that morning, and he’d forgotten to turn his desk lamp off. The light is slightly dimmed, he makes a mental note to fix the bulb throughout the week. He’s quick to move out of his towel and into a pair of tracksuits and worn out shirt.
His mother’s been trying to convince him to get rid of that shirt simply because there are holes in the back and along the sides. He’s had it since he was young, he can’t remember exactly when he got it but his mother says it was over five years ago.
She tends to exaggerate, so he can’t be sure that it’s true.
As he lays down in bed, his mind begins to drift. It isn’t as if he wants that, or needs it. It just happens and he’s more than happy to let it happen. It leads to him remembering that he has early morning practice for the first time this year tomorrow.
Which only means he has to get up earlier because the first years will be there. He has half a mind to smother himself with his pillow just to get it over with. It’s a pain having to deal with them, he remembers how hellish it was for the captains the year before.
An alarm is screaming from the other side of the room. Yaku doesn’t move, wanting to stay in bed for that little bit longer. His limbs can’t keep up with this already, they’d had pre-season training over the summer and now actual training is beginning.
He blindly throws one of his pillows in the vague direction of his alarm clock. He flinches when he something clatters to the ground, which is enough to get him out of bed. His parents, of course, are still asleep and he doesn’t live too far away from school, so they’re never up.
His mother and father both work day jobs from nine to five, so he’s stuck walking himself places or at worst, taking the bus. He spends a solid five minutes looking at the wall with his feet hanging over the side of his bed, blu-tac marks from old posters staring back at him.
Eventually, he’s out of bed. He’s ruffling through his clothes trying to find his uniform, which still fits considering that he hasn’t grown in two years. He slips into his runners, throwing his school uniform into his old duffel bag, along with other things he’ll need such as a towel and his water bottle.
Breakfast consists of a protein bar. He tends to eat on the way, considering that he likes to take his time walking. It’s nice watching the sunrise, it’s also surprisingly calming.
The start of the day has always been something that brings Yaku peace, there are no loud noises and it’s never too unpredictable. It’s simply empty, in the best way possible.
Morning is the one time of day where there is nothing.
The air is brisk, and cool against his face as he opens the door. He makes sure to shut it quietly before turning around it and beginning the walk. There are street lights flickering in the distance, whilst morning light fringes the horizon.
Music is playing softly from his earbuds, and his phone sits in the pocket of his sports jacket. His hands are in his pockets, and he finds himself humming along softly to the tune. He’s all alone, considering he lives further away from everyone else in the team.
By the time Yaku reaches the school, he can hear other students meeting up for clubs. There are other sports teams on the outside courts. He can hear the basketball players, everyone is slowly waking up and the nothingness he loves so much is melting away.
Kuroo sticks out almost immediately from where he’s standing at the front of the gymnasium. His hair somehow still in its shape. Yaku smiles as he thinks about just how much wax he must need to keep it like that considering how stiff it looks.
There’s also the thought of him wearing a headband that's enough to make him almost laugh.
“Well good morning.”
Kuroo turns around upon hearing his voice and a smile stretches onto his face.
“Yaku! How’re ya?”
“Tired, extremely tired, how about you, Kuroo?”
If possible, Kuroo becomes even more excitable and Yaku wouldn’t be shocked if he started jumping on the spot.
“Great, amazing, superb, the first years this year Yaku…It’s gonna be our season.”
“What do you mean?”
It’s then that they walk in, in uniform and everything. There’s one though, he has blue eyes and silver hair that can’t be natural and he’s…massive.
Yaku immediately turns to look at Kuroo, and then back to the first years.
“Now, everyone else is late which is poor timing, really, but they’ll get here eventually, but let me introduce you to our trusty setter here, Yaku Morisuke.”
The tall one’s face immediately becomes much more interested, as if he's a cat. His eyes begin to sparkle and he actually points towards Yaku.
For some reason, he wants to slap the grin off of his face.
“I expected you to be taller,“
It’s as if on instinct that Yaku zeroes in on him. It all plays out in slow motion and it feels as if his side is on fire, burning as flames become to lick at him. It hurts so much but he can’t move, he stays planted to the ground.
His hands move, and Yaku watches as it goes to a height around ten centimetres taller than himself.
“By at least this much.”
He doesn't do anything, his mouth turns to a scowl and his face tightens. The words on his skin are burning. He wishes they weren’t there because this is too much. No one said it would hurt like this, no one said that those words would be burnt into his skin.
He swears he can smell his own flesh melting.
“Yaku, meet our first years, this is Lev Haiba-“
He doesn’t hear anything else after that.
“Kuroo, do you mind if I just step out for a second?”
It’s more than a second.
He’s pretty sure he’s sitting outside for hours.
Everyone walks in, and they just give him a simple nod and wave. No one really asks why he’s outside, which is nice.
They’re all understanding enough to know when someone needs time and space to themselves, even if they can be a bit overbearing sometimes. Kuroo will probably check up on him later, and probably attempt to give him some type of advice.
Kuroo is surprisingly good at that, he’s found.
The doors open, and light from the gymnasium pours out onto the empty pathway and lockers. He doesn’t turn around and just assumes that it’s someone simply taking a breather.
What he doesn’t expect is to look up and see Lev standing in front of him. His eyes aren’t light, but there’s a warm smile on his face and he moves to sit in front of Yaku. His legs are crossed, and there’s a confused look on his face.
“What’d I do?”
Yaku realises then that he hasn’t said a word to Lev. He can’t know just what happened, he doesn’t know because he’d simply ran off because the simple idea of even being remotely close to his soulmate was too much.
He has half a mind to say nothing, and just brush it off but honestly, that’d give it away if Lev’s words have shown up.
“You,” Yaku moves forward just that much more, looking at Lev closer than ever. He’s too close for it to be comfortable, but for some reason, Lev doesn’t flinch or move, he waits.
He’s patient, and Yaku doesn’t mind that. He finds it endearing, and the warmth that spreads from where the words sit on his hips isn’t painful anymore. It’s welcoming, and kind, it reminds him oddly of home or the feeling of nostalgia.
Maybe there’s one thing better than nothingness.
“You fucked up my life.”
Lev is better than nothingness. He knows that much, even if he’s afraid because he can’t just continue simply existing without purpose.
Lev’s mouth opens into a small ‘o’ shape, his hand instinctively reaches to where his collarbones are. He grips the fabric of his shirt as if there’s some type of pain there, and they stay looking at each other.
The wind is cool, but the sun warms Yaku’s side. It makes Lev’s skin appear more gold than pale. He reaches his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. Without warning, a warmth begins spreading on his cheeks.
He hadn’t expected it, but for some reason, he doesn’t mind the idea of a soulmate now that his is sitting right in front of him.