Chapter Text
Tsukishima had a problem.
Tsukishima had problems often. Maybe they were school related. Maybe they had to do with his brother. And every once in a while, his problem would be that he had scratched his glasses and would have to get his lenses replaced. Oftentimes, the problems were people related—annoying people that would not leave him alone and the like.
But it was not often that Yamaguchi was his problem.
Yamaguchi was Tsukishima’s best friend, although he would never admit it to him. He was one of the only people Tsukishima could stand to be around, because Yamaguchi understood him. Yamaguchi could interpret the coldest words and withstand the chill they brought. Yamaguchi had never once tried to change the person that Tsukishima was, even as the words got colder and the distance between them grew. Yamaguchi understood Tsukishima, no matter what.
And maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe Yamaguchi’s unfaltering loyalty had led to this. Maybe the problem was the fact that wherever he went, there was Yamaguchi’s grinning face and steady hands and cheerful disposition, as if his job were to melt the ice Tsukishima left behind.
Tsukishima’s problem was that he had feelings for Yamaguchi.
They had snuck up on him; grabbed him by the throat while he was facing the volleyball net in front of him. It had him in a chokehold that only loosened when he was looking right at Yamaguchi.
Ignoring the fact that he apparently liked guys (he didn’t have the energy to deal with that issue), having a crush of Yamaguchi was dangerous. Yamaguchi was his best friend. Yamaguchi was his best friend who was in his class and on his volleyball team. Yamaguchi was the person he walked home with, and probably one of the only people he would actually listen to without putting his headphones on.
It was definitely a problem, and one that Tsukishima didn’t know how to deal with. Nothing irritated him more than a problem without a good, obvious solution. Like those math problems with never-ending answers. What a waste of time.
Just like his feelings for Yamaguchi. Nothing would ever come of them. They were best friends, and best friends they would stay. And maybe someday Tsukishima would be the best man at Yamaguchi’s wedding to some little blonde girl and he would smile at him and say, “Tsukki, you’ll give a speech at the reception, won’t you?” and Tsukishima would say no and Yamaguchi would be okay with that because that was who he was.
“Tsukki?”
Tsukishima was snapped out of his thoughts by the very object of them—Yamaguchi, peering curiously at him as they walked home from volleyball practice.
“What?”
“Are you okay? You’re spacing out.”
Tsukishima just hummed in response, and Yamaguchi smiled and nodded. Like always, he understood exactly what Tsukishima meant by his responses, whether they were words or not. Nothing Tsukishima said ever offended him, even if Tsukishima had meant to. Yamaguchi launched back into whatever he had been saying before. Tsukishima thought that it might be about a movie he had seen.
Mid-sentence, Yamaguchi cut himself off and said, “Hey, Tsukki?”
“What?”
“Can I go over to your house this weekend? After practice?”
They both stopped walking. Tsukishima turned to look at Yamaguchi, and like always, the pressure on his throat lessened and the hand on his heart squeezed harder. “And do what?”
The words were harsh, but Yamaguchi didn’t seem to mind. “We could watch movies together, like we used to do. I thought it could be fun.”
Two parts of Tsukishima waged a war within him. One part of him wanted to agree and surrender what little free time he had to Yamaguchi. He thought about him during that time, this stupid voice reasoned, so why not have the real deal?
The other part of him was throttling himself by the throat, yelling no, he couldn’t spend even more time with Yamaguchi, did he even know what kind of consequences that could have?
Tsukishima turned around and kept walking. “Don’t invite yourself over to my house. Do it at yours.”
He heard Yamaguchi jog to catch up with him. “Okay. My house on Friday, after practice?”
“Fine.”
The two kept walking in, Yamaguchi still talking about his movie, Tsukishima trying to dislodge whatever had taken place in his throat (it was not working) and trying to not think about Yamaguchi (that was also not working).
Finally, they stopped in front of Yamaguchi’s house. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi called as he began walking up to his front door, waving back to Tsukishima.
He did not wave back. He did, however, reply, “Okay,” before putting his headphones on and continuing to walk to his house. He was sure Yamaguchi wasn’t offended.
Tsukishima was an idiot. An idiot with a very big problem.