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Kuroo knows that sometimes he is really annoying. People have been telling him that since he was old enough to understand words and maybe even before that too, when he was a baby with too much hair and a shit-eating grin. And that’s cool, it’s fun to rile people up. But he does have his limits. He knows when to stop. He really didn’t mean to snap Tsukishima’s headphones in half.
This is how it went down: Tsukishima moved to Tokyo for university in April -> he is in Kuroo’s university -> their dormitories are across from each other -> they’re in the same volleyball club -> Kuroo has been trying to be a helpful senpai for the past five months and get Tsukishima to loosen up and act his age -> Kuroo takes Tsukishima around town sometimes to get him to loosen up -> they are in the train headed for Kabukichō tonight -> Kuroo was trying to talk to Tsukishima and was being ignored -> Kuroo pulled Tsukishima’s right headphone to talk into his ear -> the headphones broke.
“Fuck,” Kuroo says, handing the broken piece back. Tsukishima’s hands are trembling. In fact, Tsukishima’s whole body seems to be trembling with suppressed rage. “Man, I’m sorry, Tsukki, I mean, Tsukishima.”
Tsukishima places the headphones, now in two pieces, into opposite pockets. He pushes his glasses up with a finger. “It’s fine, Kuroo-san,” he says, voice very even. “Accidents happen.”
***
It’s not fine. The next day at practice, Kuroo keeps getting hit on the back of the head with volleyballs that Tsukishima “accidentally” lost control of.
“Careful,” Akaashi tells Tsukishima. “Kuroo-san can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.”
“You’re right,” Tsukishima agrees. “Sorry, Kuroo-san.”
Bokuto is roaring with laughter. Kuroo really misses his old team at times like these. They were much nicer. Kenma, especially, was a sweetheart. But they’ve gone their separate ways, and Kuroo is now stuck with these losers.
“Very funny,” Kuroo says. “Haha. Okay, I guess we’re even now, Tsukki.”
***
When the weekend rolls around, Kuroo invites Tsukishima for a night out on town. No, not Kabukichō this time. Tsukishima was a spoilsport the whole time they were there, and Kuroo had felt a little angry when a group of hosts started to feel Tsukishima up.
It’s going to be just them and some third-years tonight, just dinner and karaoke. Tsukishima has a good singing voice, when he makes the effort. Kuroo wants to repay Tsukishima the brilliant math major for all the times he has helped him with Statistics homework.
Kuroo gets a little carried away as the night progresses, warbles songs for a few girls, kisses them at various and separate times, makes out with someone who has light brown eyes in a restroom. The guy gives a bored sigh after the first round, and Kuroo wants another. When he returns to the karaoke room, he finds that Tsukishima has left.
The next day, Akaashi comes to morning practice with an iPad and shows Kuroo a playlist Tsukishima has made and uploaded onto a music website. The mix is called Hot Panini and has a cover depicting a guy with tousled brown hair who is flashing half of a lazy smirk. Kuroo takes the tablet into a restroom stall, sits on the toilet, and listens to the songs. They are all about playboys, and the last track ends with the playboy crying about how alone he is because of his playboy ways.
“That little shit,” Kuroo says, smiling. But it stings, surprisingly.
When he returns to the gym, Tsukishima is there. Before Kuroo can say anything, Bokuto gets into his face, yelling, “Hey, check it out! Here's Hot Panini-san!”
Kuroo laughs, replies, “Are you jealous that your cute kouhai didn’t make you a playlist, Bokuto?” And then, smiling at Tsukishima, he says, “Thanks, Tsukki. I’m flattered that you spend so much time thinking about me.”
“It took about three minutes,” Tsukishima says. “My other mixes take at least fifteen minutes.”
Kuroo puts an arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders. “That’s three more minutes than I would be willing to spend making a mix about you,” he says. “But thanks. It’s nice to know that you think that I’m hot stuff. And that you’re listening to stories to about me. Who told you about that Panini thing anyway?”
Bokuto says, “Who doesn’t know about the Panini thing? That’s what you get for fucking around when I was trying to talk to Aone.” Then he starts singing one of the songs from the mix, the one about a cat on the prowl, while strutting like he’s on a catwalk.
“Just ignore him,” Akaashi advises. “He’ll get tired eventually.”
Bokuto reaches the gym doors and spins around dramatically. Kuroo says, “Aren’t you the one who showed him the mix, Akaashi?”
Akaashi replies, “Tsukishima showed it to us.”
“Oho?” Kuroo glances at Tsukishima.
“It was in the spirit of team solidarity,” Tsukishima replies. “You did tell me I should learn how to get along with my seniors, Kuroo-san.”
***
Kuroo tries to get back at Tsukishima the next day by sticking a note that says “Kick me. I’m a nerd” on the back of his preppy sweater. But no one tries to kick him.
“He’s tall,” Akaashi explains.
And, “No thanks, I don’t want a mix about me,” Bokuto says, when asked why he can’t help a brother out. “Also, he helps me with my homework sometimes. Also, Akaashi said I’m not allowed to get involved in your mess.” He pounds Kuroo on the back. “Sorry, man.”
“You’re whipped,” Kuroo says, making a gagging motion.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto calls, “what does whipped mean? I don’t think Kuroo-bastard means it in the getting hit sense.”
“Kuroo-san should be careful,” Akaashi replies, not bothering to look up from his clipboard, “so that he doesn’t get whipped in both senses.”
After Akaashi moves out of earshot, Kuroo says, “Next thing I know, you’re going to be asking Akaashi permission to go to the toilet.”
Bokuto looks angry for a moment, and then he says, “Akaashi always knows what’s up, so what’s wrong with listening to him?”
Kuroo shakes his head. Bokuto says, “At least I don’t have the hots for someone who’s two years younger than me.”
“I don’t either, and two years isn’t that different from one.”
“Whatever!” Bokuto frowns. “Try it out, Kuroo, loving someone. Don’t knock it before you try it.”
***
Tsukishima has gotten really good at blocking, so much so that their coach subs him in during their match against Oikawa’s team.
As they are doing the exchange, Kuroo taps his finger against the back of Tsukishima’s hand, says, “Watch out for Ushiwaka’s spikes. He’s not as pigheaded and predictable as before.”
“I know,” Tsukishima replies. “I was watching.”
Watching isn’t the same as playing. Kuroo’s hands are still stinging. By the time match ends (25-20, 25-22, Oikawa’s team winning again, fuck them), Tsukishima’s hands are red as his own.
In the locker room, Kuroo notices that Tsukishima is favoring his left hand.
“You okay?” Kuroo asks.
“Yes,” Tsukishima replies, but he winces when Kuroo bends his fingers back.
“Wrap it up,” Kuroo says, tossing him a roll of bandages.
Akaashi says, “How sweet, Kuroo-san.”
Tsukishima is watching Kuroo too, his expression unreadable. Kuroo feels a little hot under the collar of his jersey jacket. Tsukishima is a big boy who can handle himself just fine.
“Just looking out for my kouhai,” Kuroo says. “Wouldn’t want him to get injured and not get to play, right? He’d become even more of an annoying shit then. He’d probably make a mix about you too, Akaashi.”
***
Tsukishima’s hair is kind of pretty. Blond, thick, curling a little at the ends. The color and the texture remind Kuroo of daisies, not that he would ever make that comparison out loud. And he won’t say, either, how much he wants to plunge his fingers into that hair and yank on the strands and-
“Why are you staring?” Tsukishima asks, moving around him to reach the train doors.
Kuroo thinks for a moment, and then he notices something. He can’t believe he didn’t notice sooner. He says, “You aren’t wearing headphones.”
He tries to remember when he last saw Tsukishima with headphones. He is sure there was a pair of cheap looking ones covering Tsukishima’s ears two days ago. Tsukishima’s face was flushed from the cold, and the white hanging wires were pulled through a red scarf, and Kuroo had been staring as he followed him to the Math and Science building where they had their morning classes.
Tsukishima says, pulling the strap of his messenger bag higher, “I need to buy another pair. The sound quality of the cheap ones is just not up to par.”
“What model was your old pair?” Kuroo asks, following him out onto the platform.
Tsukishima glances down at him. Kuroo tries not to think about how much he likes the gold in Tsukishima’s eyes. They remind him of the light emitted by fireflies. He wants to take Tsukishima to see the fireflies next summer. There’s a bunch near his father’s summerhouse. Then he is going to tease Tsukishima about his first name. Kei. What a nice name.
Tsukishima asks, “Kuroo-san, don’t you have anywhere else to be? I can go grocery shopping by myself.”
Kuroo smiles, says, “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Bye.”
As soon as Tsukishima is sucked into the crowd, Kuroo buys another train ticket, this time to visit home. He is a little short on money, but his dad won’t mind lending him some so that he can help out a friend. And he can visit Kenma too. Kenma owns high-quality headphones. They enhance the gaming experience or something.
***
Kuroo will be paying his father back for the next six months, but it’s worth it, a whole year is worth it, almost anything is for this look of surprise on Tsukishima’s face when he sees the brand new headphones.
“A gift,” Kuroo says, so there is no misunderstanding. And, because Tsukishima is just sitting at his desk, staring, his hands between his knees, fingertips pressed together, Kuroo fits the headphones over Tsukishima’s ears.
He is gentle, so that he doesn’t break this pair. “There,” he says after he is done.
He meant to pat Tsukishima’s head at the end, but he finds himself stroking Tsukishima’s nape instead. He quickly puts his hands in his pockets.
The red headband looks great in Tsukishima’s blond hair.
“I can’t accept this,” Tsukishima says. He places the headphones on the desk.
“The proper thing to say is thank you.”
Tsukishima’s mouth twists into an ugly smile for a moment, that pseudo-self-deprecating one Kuroo hates. “Is this a Tokyo custom too?” Tsukishima asks in an overly-polite voice. “Breaking the possessions of country bumpkins and then replacing them so that the bumpkins can be beholden to the gift-giver?”
“It’s just a gift, Tsukishima. Why are you such a bastard?”
“Well then, thank you.” Tsukishima’s tone is now as stiff as the line of his shoulders.
Kuroo leans against the wall next to the desk. He has a ton of Stat homework to finish for tomorrow, but he doesn’t want to leave while Tsukishima is angry with him.
“Look,” he says, “I’m just trying to help you have a good time while we’re both here. I only have about a year and a half left.”
“I’m not having a good time,” Tsukishima says, folding his arms.
“Okay, what do you want to do? We’ll do what you think is fun. Or you can do whatever, and we’ll just see each other for volleyball. Sorry I’ve been such a bother.”
Kuroo considers leaving it at that, but he is worried that Tsukishima will tell him, yes please fuck off. It’s going to suck, not getting to spend time with the guy he’s kind-of-maybe in love with.
True, he was having a good time here even before Tsukishima started at the university (he likes Bokuto and Akaashi, and he likes his Psychology major, although the Stat classes are no joke), but Tsukishima is fascinating, someone he likes to observe and talk to and fantasize about.
So, Kuroo adds, “But, I’m going to miss you.”
Tsukishima glances at him out of the corner of his pretty brown eyes. Kuroo shrugs a shoulder, smiles.
After a moment, Tsukishima says, “I haven’t kissed someone older than me before. I think that would be a fun experience.”
Kuroo stops smiling. He can’t believe what he just heard. To think that Tsukishima would say something so smooth, so cool. Kuroo is a little ashamed of himself.
“Well, fuck,” he says. And then he leans down, puts an arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders, kisses him on the mouth.
Tsukishima kisses him back with much more energy than Kuroo had thought he would, gets really into it, sucking tongue and gripping Kuroo’s right arm and breathing hard into Kuroo’s mouth. Kuroo can feel himself getting hard. It’s going to be a long night, and he won’t get any homework done. Oh well, he thinks, running his fingers through Tsukishima’s beautiful hair, he can stay an extra semester for Tsukishima.