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Doubts lurk in the depths of Yamaguchi's mind. They're soft whispers at first, but quickly become loud yells. Inescapable. Telling him things like you'll never be good enough, you're a nuisance, you should give up.
And Yamaguchi believes them. He tries not to, but sometimes the thoughts overtake him and he gets down on himself, has trouble believing anything good about himself. They even make him doubt his own relationship with Tsukki, telling him that Tsukki doesn't care, doesn't need him.
He doesn't want those thoughts to overtake his mind, to cloud his judgment, but when they do he can't help but look at other people and see everything wrong with him, with them.
…
Kageyama and Hinata are always in motion, it seems. They ignite a spark in each other, push each other forward. Kageyama gives Hinata wings—the means to fly high. Hinata gives Kageyama hope—something to fight for. They're wild, uncontrollable, but in a weird way they're steady, stable. Hinata is there, solid ground that Kageyama can stand on after any stability was ripped away from him in junior high. He makes it safe, he makes it home. Kageyama is driven, a light guiding Hinata forward clearing the way of any darkness. He helps them move forward, helps them stay strong.
Sometimes they're dense, Yamaguchi thinks, watching as the two bicker after practice—probably about something silly, as usual. Hinata is walking his bike to the gates, Kageyama by his side. It's like they're in their own world, one where nothing but them exists (And probably volleyball, he adds with a silent snicker. Those two probably couldn't live without volleyball, wouldn't know what to do with themselves.) They probably don't even realize what an impact they've made on each other yet. Maybe they get inklings of it, but it hasn't hit them full force. Not yet.
It will one day. He wonders how that will turn out. They'll probably be loud about it, nothing about Hinata and Kageyama is quiet, after all. They're fireworks, they draw attention, they're bright, loud. Blinding lights that explode and just about force you to look at them even if you're the most apathetic person in the world.
Yeah, they're always in motion, he thinks again, watching as Kageyama lingers at the point they're supposed to take separate directions, looking between the path he's supposed to take and the path Hinata is on. A quick decision later and they're walking together again, saying something about going to Hinata's house to practice more volleyball. (With anyone else, he'd say that was an excuse. But knowing those two, they're dead serious.) They move forward, walk together, relationship changing, growing with each and every step together.
It's not like that with Tsukki. He feels like he and Tsukki are stagnant, have been in the same place they have been since they met. Tsukki leads, Yamaguchi follows. That's how it's always been.
He hopes that's not how it will always be.
…
Daichi and Suga are probably the most interesting to him. They think they do a good job of hiding it, but everyone on the team knows how they are—if not from the way they look at each other, then from their lingering touches and soft smiles.
Their relationship is quiet, there, but no less important than any other relationship. They silently support each other, with pats to shoulders and smiles and encouraging words.
Daichi and Suga are equals, pages of the same book that hold the same value of advancing the plot forward. They respect each other, hold each other close, push each other forward, keep each other steady. Daichi acknowledges Suga's strengths, encourages him to keep working, to not give up when many would have if they were in Suga's position.
Suga supports Daichi, backs him up, is the support behind his forceful declarations, his goals. With their hands entwined, they step into what's to come together. By each other's sides.
Yamaguchi trails after Tsukki. He so badly wants to be by his side, to hold his hand, to support each other, believe in each other. But sometimes he doesn't even know if Tsukki believes in himself enough to be able to believe in someone else too. Tsukki is cynical—has been ever since he saw his brother's hard work wasted, his dreams crushed—doesn't attempt to reach high aims. He's content just squeaking by. Yamaguchi would like to fly high too, to have someone there encouraging him forward, walking by his side.
But he doesn't know if he has that.
…
He remembers their match against Aobajousai late one night… and not for the reasons he'd be expected to remember it for. Not for the embarrassment, the pain, the anger he felt when his serve didn't go over the net. No, instead, he finds himself thinking about something completely different.
It's like they're perfectly in sync, Coach Ukai had said, referring to Oikawa and Seijou's ace—Iwaizumi? (He thinks he's heard Kageyama mention that name before)—after a perfectly connected attack.
But it's not just volleyball. It's the way their hands meet in a high five, their shared glances, touches, smiles. Everything about them shows that they know each other, know each other so well, look at each other with fond eyes that will always find their way back to each other, even if they wander. No matter how far they get pulled apart, they’ll find their way back to each other. Will want to find their way back to each other.
Tsukki and Yamaguchi aren't perfectly in sync. They're childhood friends, have been together a long time. He thinks they know each other, can read each other. But perfectly in sync? Not really. That's just not them. Sometimes, he doesn’t even know if he and Tsukki are on the same wavelength anymore… or if they ever have been.
…
"What's wrong with you lately?"
"Um… nothing, Tsukki," Yamaguchi says quickly, smiling and hoping to cover any of his doubts. "Just school and volleyball, you know, the usual."
Tsukki raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't buy it, but he doesn't give any other indication that he can see through Yamaguchi's lie. "If you're sure…"
He's not, and he wants to say so, wants to say what he's thinking and confirm all of the doubts he's been having as wrong. But he doesn't say anything.
He never does.
…
Despite the nagging doubts he'll get about his and Tsukki's friendship, he still stays, can't even imagine leaving. He wants to help Tsukki out of the dark place he's been in, wants to help him move forward.
It's kind of strange when he does manage to do that. Of course, he's not completely sure of it at first. Yamaguchi lacks confidence, always has, has a difficult time believing that he could ever contribute something profound to anything—that he could ever do anything besides simply exist.
But he can… he does.
It's after his outburst at summer training camp, before the tournament in October when he realizes it. He's not as doubtful about his and Tsukki's relationship anymore, has finally started to understand that Tsukki respects him and cares about him too. It's not one-sided.
But he doesn't expect this. They're outside of school one night, leaving the gym after late practice, walking side by side.
It's a surprise when Tsukki stops, grabs Yamaguchi's hand, turns him to face him. "You've got nothing to worry about," he says.
"Are you talking about serving?" If this is Tsukki's way of telling him that he doesn't have to worry about his serves, it makes his heart flutter, brings a smile to his face.
"Well that, but something else too…"
"Huh?"
"Yamaguchi, do you think I'm blind?"
"No, of course not, Tsukki. Why would you—?"
His heart stops beating. He literally thinks his heart stops beating when Tsukki leans forward and presses his lips to his. Yamaguchi is too flustered to even react, to even show Tsukki that he wants this too.
(They are in motion. All of this time, they have been in motion. Their relationship changing, moving forward. Together.)
Tsukki pulls back, cheeks red, and averts his eyes from Yamaguchi's. Yamaguchi is spluttering, surprised, his face burning. "Tsukki?" Good, he manages to choke out a word. Progress.
"These past few months you've been worried… about us, haven't you?"
"I-I guess so, but…"
"I know I'm not always the best friend. I know that sometimes I take you for granted, just expect you to be there, like always. I'm sorry."
Yamaguchi finally regains control over his words, but his heart is still thudding in his chest. "You're not a bad friend," he says quietly. "Not at all. You're my best friend…"
(They support each other, stay by each other's side. Will stay by each other's side.)
"I meant it when I said you were cool. You are. You never gave up on me when everyone else probably did. You were there."
"Of course I was! I wanted to be."
"Thank you," Tsukki murmurs. "I never say it enough, but obviously, you need to hear it sometimes."
"Y-you're welcome…"
(They know each other. They have grown, changed, but still want to stay by each other's sides—in sync in their own special way.)
"Tsukki…" Yamaguchi's cheeks are red when he leans forward, lips brushing against Tsukki's for the second time that night. It's a lot slower than Tsukki's quick press against his lips, it's their own steady pace, their own way. "Thanks for that," he murmurs when they pull apart.
"Don't mention it…"
Their hands brush on their way home, like they have many times throughout their years together, but this time, they're both reaching for each other. Their fingers curl together, and they share a smile.
Yamaguchi doesn't have to doubt anything. In the back of his mind, he knows that he never should have. They don't have to be like anyone else. Not when they can be themselves, not when they can be their own special thing that no one else can touch.