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Tsukishima didn’t think he could ever feel so strongly about a stranger. He didn’t think he would even take notice of people if he didn’t already know them.
But the freckled brunette near the window has become such a constant to him that Tsukishima couldn’t help but notice him. Since he started going to the library regularly, Tsukishima has always seen the freckled boy sitting at the tall table right next to the tall windows by the Historical Fiction shelves. Freckles always has his laptop or a library book in front of him, and Tsukishima can tell he’s always engrossed because his lips purse and he taps his foot against the bar on his char, and whenever his attention is drawn away, his nose twitches just barely.
Freckles has cute little earbuds with lemons on them, a pastel yellow cord sprouting from the two buds. His phone case is an arrangement of orange and black, but Tsukishima’s never seen the exact design. His laptop is covered in stickers, and Tsukishima has found himself wondering on several occasions just how painful it would be to eventually remove them; surely they’ll leave residue.
The brunette’s freckles trickle down his face and disappear from his neck, reappearing at his collarbone and his shoulders, something Tsukishima learned on a particularly warm day in the library. The A/C broke, and Freckles donned a muscle shirt. Not that he’s particularly muscular. Tsukishima guesses that he does play a sport, though. Freckles isn’t a twig, at least.
Normally, Tsukishima wouldn’t pay this much attention to a stranger. Speculating about random people isn’t exactly a pastime for him, and it’s not like he doesn’t have better things to do. He goes to the library to study after all, not to gawk at pretty boys.
He somehow manages to do both.
Tsukishima always takes a seat at a tall table on the opposite end of the the Historical Fiction section. He has a clear view of Freckles, the tables being on either end of an aisle. He didn’t sit there on purpose. Or, well— He sat there on purpose, but that had nothing to do with Freckles. He sat there because there was an outlet beside that table. And after that first time, he kept taking that table because of consistency and, again, the outlet.
It’s just a little more than convenient that he has an unhindered view of the brunette.
Today, though, Tsukishima steps into the library and finds his table taken. A college student, going by the logo on the girl’s sweater, is tapping away on a laptop in Tsukishima’s usual seat.
As he contemplates where to sit instead, he realizes that he — to his surprise — recognizes her, vaguely. She always sits near the Young Adult books. Tsukishima glances over to her usual table and finds it taken. And without an outlet. One of those two factors would be why she’s in his spot and not her own. Possibly a combination of the two, judging from the cord stretching between her computer and the wall.
The library is usually pretty quiet. Except for exam times, there’s not a lot of foot traffic. Not at the same time, at least. There are a bunch of little kids running around, and combined with the small posters stuck onto the aisle end-caps with Scotch tape, Tsukishima has to assume there’s an event. There are plenty of people, and all of the studiers who would usually sit in the middle of the library have migrated away from the kids section, not wanting to be distracted by wailing children. So naturally, there are empty tables there, but Tsukishima doesn’t exactly want to go there either. He might have headphones to drown them out, but he won’t be able to stop a child from jostling him.
He winces as he watches a little boy bump into one of the empty tables.
Tsukishima’s considering leaving and sucking it up to study at home when he notices rapid movement in the corner of his eye. He could assume it to be a running child, but it’s more of a waving motion, so he turns.
Freckles is smiling in his direction, arm stretched as far as it can go in greeting. He motions for Tsukishima to come, but then Tsukishima realizes right before taking a step that Freckles wouldn’t be referring to him.
He glances around to see who it could be, but when his eyes land back on the brunette, Freckles rolls his eyes and points at Tsukishima, grin still wide.
That’s all it takes for Tsukishima to start moving forward.
“Hey,” Freckles greets when Tsukishima gets close enough. “So, I see your seat’s been stolen.”
Freckles knows he always sits where that girl is now? He noticed?
He’s talking to Tsukishima now?
It takes a moment too long for Tsukishima to force out a, “Yeah, I guess.”
“If you don’t have anywhere else to be, you can sit here,” Freckles gestures at the one other chair at his table, the one across from him. Tsukishima has only seen Freckles accompanied at his table a handful of times, and always with the same person: an overly loud redhead who never stays long.
Freckles tugs his belongings closer toward himself, freeing up the other half of the circular table. Tsukishima notices that the brunette’s backpack, which usually sits on the other chair, is on the ground now.
“Uh,” Tsukishima says dumbly, “Okay.” He has no doubt that when he replays this in his head later, he’ll scold himself for sounding so lame. Great first impression, Kei.
“Great,” Freckles chirps.
For all his skills, unpacking his belongings and conversing with pretty boys at the same time isn’t one of them. “Thanks,” he says abruptly as he pulls his laptop out of his bag.
“No problem. I’m always happy to help my fellow library-goers. Especially such a familiar face as yours.”
Tsukishima really hopes he’s imagining the way his face warms up.
“Well,” Freckles sighs, “Now that you have a seat, I guess I should let you get to whatever it is you need to do.” His lemon earbuds are both out, but they’re still plugged into his computer. He twirls one around his finger before moving to raise it to his ear.
“Wait,” Tsukishima hears himself say. He doesn’t have a follow-up; there’s no real reason for Yamaguchi to wait.
What were those stupid social interaction tips Kuroo tried to give him a while ago? When Kuroo, one of Tsukishima’s unfortunately many meddling upperclassmen, tried to explain why no one liked to talk to him for very long, Tsukishima had mostly tuned him out. That little talk might have been useful now, if only he’d listened.
The brunette regards him curiously.
“My stuff isn’t urgent,” he says. It’s true, but it’s not a reasonable reason for him to stop the brunette from getting to his own work. Tsukishima has no idea how urgent Freckles’ work is.
“Really,” the brunette says more than asks. “Mine isn’t either. We can chat for a bit, if that’s cool with you.”
Very cool. That is very cool with Tsukishima. He clears his throat. “Yeah, sure.”
Freckles goes so far as to close his own laptop, and now Tsukishima has an unobstructed view of the boy in front of him. It’s a nice view.
Before he can follow that tangent any farther, Tsukishima darts his eyes away and out the window. He can’t help the faint gasp that passes his lips when he looks out. Tsukishima never realized just how green the space beside the library is. Tall bushes and flowering plants line the ground outside. Several bird feeders rise up from the grass along the cement walkway. Given that the window is wall-to-ceiling, Tsukishima can’t fathom how he didn’t notice before.
He supposes his gaze was focused elsewhere.
“Is that why you always sit here?” he asks softly. The brunette turns his head to look outside as well, and he smiles.
“That, and I just like working with natural sunlight.” Freckles unplugs his earbuds and rolls them up. “It’s really nice. Sometimes, I like to take a quick walk out there before coming in here.” His earbuds slip into a small round container with a lemon pattern on it.
Tsukishima is about to say something — probably something stupid and impulsive — when he hears a bouncy voice cut through the noise of bustling parents and children: “‘Dashi!”
Both Tsukishima and the boy across from him turn to face the quickly-approaching streak of orange. The redhead’s eyes widen as he steps up to them, his usual chair occupied by Tsukishima.
“You finally got him to sit with you,” the redhead breathes out eagerly, almost squealing. “Nice! Congrats!”
“Hey,” Freckles reprimands stiffly. When Tsukishima casts a look in his direction, he quickly takes notice of the redness burning the brunette’s cheeks. Tsukishima chews his lower lip. ‘Finally?’
Ignoring his friend, the redhead grins. “I was gonna come keep you company before practice, but I see that’s taken care of.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, but Enno said we’re moving up an hour. It’s in the chat, but I doubt you’ve been looking at your phone.”
“Thanks,” Freckles breathes out.
“No problem. See you at three,” the redhead beams before shooting a wink at Tsukishima, waving, and disappearing out the door.
The brunette avoids Tsukishima’s gaze for a moment before clearing his throat, red simmering under his freckles. “So, uh, what were we— Oh, the path.” His eyes cut quickly to the window.
“Practice?” Tsukishima asks regardless of the topic Freckles is trying to return to.
“I play volleyball. With him — my friend, Hinata.”
Tsukishima blinks before jerking a thumb in the direction Hinata bolted in. “He’s barely taller than the table.”
Freckles barks a surprised laugh. “He’s really good, though. I promise.”
“Are you?”
The brunette hesitates. “I’m okay.”
Tsukishima doesn’t think he’s in the position to try unpacking that. They aren’t that close. Not yet.
Maybe they can address that at a later date.
“I play too. I’m a middle blocker,” Tsukishima says.
Freckles beams, “Me too. So is Hinata. What team do you play for?”
They spend the next half hour talking avidly about the commonality they have, though Freckles does a lot more talking than Tsukishima. He doesn’t mind the chatter, Tsukishima finds. In fact, he welcomes it. Freckles has a nice voice, and he talks with his hands in a way that you just know he’s deeply engaged.
Tsukishima’s disappointed when he remembers to look at the time. He almost wishes he hadn’t noticed the numbers appearing on his phone screen.
“You have to go soon,” he says flatly. Freckles blinks at him, and Tsukishima backtracks. “It’s almost time for your practice.” He doesn’t want the brunette to think he’s trying to get rid of him, to send him off and take over the table for himself.
“Oh,” Freckles says, sounding equally disappointed.”Right.” He checks the time for himself and kisses his teeth. “Yikes. Yeah, I have to…” He trails off as he starts packing up the backpack at his feet.
Tsukishima watches silently, and Freckles huffs when he finally stands up.
“Okay, um, it was good, uh, sharing a table with you. And talking, and stuff,” the brunette says.
“Yeah.”
“I, uh, bye,” Freckles stammers before leaving.
“Bye,” Tsukishima only gets a chance to say when Freckles is halfway across the library.
Only after Freckles left, Tsukishima realizes that he neglected to get his number. Or even his name, God damnit. Though, Hinata did call him Dashi. That’s something.
He also realizes, looking down at his closed laptop, that neither of them got anything done.
Tsukishima managed to convince himself not to fret over the lack of identifying information he had for Freckles because he knows where to find him. Right by the library window, where he always is.
When he gets to the library, Freckles isn’t there yet. The table by the window is empty. Tsukishima’s seat is empty too, but usually Freckles is here by now, so purely fearing that he’s running late and that someone will take his seat in the meantime, Tsukishima makes a beeline for the window and sits down. He doesn’t even consider that if Freckles arrived to an occupied seat, Tsukishima could just return the previous day’s favor and invite him over.
When the brunette does burst through the doors, he’s in athletic clothes and carries a duffel bag instead of his usual backpack. Tsukishima pretends not to admire the faint freckles dotting the brunette’s tan legs past his shorts.
Freckles looks first to Tsukishima’s usual table and visibly droops at what he sees. Or maybe, Tsukishima finds himself hoping, what he doesn’t see.
The brunette then casts a quick glance at the window table. He looks like he’s about to leave, but then he does a double take. Seconds later, he’s grinning and hustling over to Tsukishima.
“You’re here,” Freckles breathes out. Glee and relief tickle Tsukishima’s face with the exhale.
“I am,” Tsukishima agrees dumbly.
“I was worried I wouldn’t see you,” Freckles rambles, “Since I don’t usually come on Saturdays, so I didn’t know if you did.” Tsukishima doesn’t, but he couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around. “I could have waited, but I just— It’s just—”
Tsukishima takes a sharp breath.
“I waited for a really long time for a chance to talk to you, and I was an idiot to forget to get your number yesterday, and I just really want it. Your number. Please.” Freckles holds his phone out with both hands like an offering. Tsukishima stares at the New Contact page.
Amber eyes flicker between the device and Freckles’ face. Red sits prettily on the brunette’s cheeks, painting his ears and emphasizing his freckles.
He’s really pretty. Not that this is new information to Tsukishima.
Tsukishima takes the phone gingerly, like it’ll evaporate if he isn’t careful, and Freckles brightens. A few taps later, Freckles stares down at the device, grin rivaling the glowing fluorescent lights overhead.
“Tsukishima,” Freckles says slowly, rolling the syllables around on his tongue. He purses his lips before saying instead, “Tsukki.” The brunette must prefer the taste of the nickname because he turns a hopeful look to Tsukishima. A sheepish grin dances on his lips.
Tsukishima likes how the nickname sounds falling from Freckles’ lips too.
The hopeful look quickly turns to horror. “Oh, shit. Oh my— I’m— I never asked for your name before now, did I?” Freckles asks quickly, hysterically. He mutters something about being such an idiot, eyes downcast for a second before flitting back to Tsukishima. “Yamaguchi,” he spits out, “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.” His body tilts toward Tsukishima’s and the hand not holding his phone grips the edge of the table.
Tsukishima’s Adam’s apple bobs.
“Nice to meet you, Yamaguchi,” he says. He thinks he likes how the name sounds. How the syllables feel in his mouth.
A small smile forms on Tsukishima’s mouth, and Yamaguchi looks instantly relieved.
“I— I’ve got to go. Practice.” He shoots a gesturing glance at his duffel bag. “But I’ll text you! When I get a chance. Maybe we can—”
“We should meet somewhere that’s not a library,” Tsukishima interrupts, hoping that was what Yamaguchi was getting at. The beam he gets confirms it is.
“Yes,” Yamaguchi agrees, “We should.”
Not even ten minutes later, Tsukishima’s phone vibrates on the table, an unknown number bold in the notification.
He quickly saves the number to his contacts.
FROM: Yamaguchi ★
— hey!!! yhis js ysmagychi! (o^▽^o)
— shit sorry i was running to practice,,,, that was not the first impression i wanted to make
TO: Yamaguchi ★
— It’s okay.
— You’ve already made a really good first impression.