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Honestly, it’s not Tsukishima’s fault that he noticed.
In fact, it is harder to not notice.
The whole school seems to have noticed it, too.
Tsukishima watches as another girl approaches Kageyama, the formerly unfamiliar burn in his chest, now feels like a familiar clump of something dirty in his chest, something he doesn’t like, but has grown used to, yet doesn’t have a name for yet. Kageyama is acting aloof, or Tsukishima thinks he is. What clearer confession does Kageyama need than a girl approaching him with a box of chocolate, shyly twirling the escaped locks in her loose ponytail? But Kageyama still has that look on his face, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and the situation in front of him in the form of this girl approaching him, so all he does is look at her awkwardly, the earlier aloof expression he had wore off to something akin to embarrassment.
Tsukishima wants to knock some sense into him, honestly. Is he that much of an idiot?
“Sorry,” Tsukishima hears Kageyama say to the girl, softly pushing the chocolate box back to her with an apologetic look on his face. “Uh, I don’t think I like you that way.”
The girl is facing away from Tsukishima, but he imagines the girl’s face must’ve dropped at Kageyama’s words, no matter how apologetic he tried to sound. But once you’re cursed with a resting bitch face, the rest of your demeanour won’t really change.
“Tsukki, stare longer, you might even burn a hole on Kageyama’s face,” says a teasing voice Tsukishima has grown used to. There’s an itch in his chest again, this time easily identified as irritation.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima shoots back half-heartedly, tearing his eyes away from the painfully corny scene to watch at the end of the hallway. Tsukishima finally opens the can he bought earlier, but forgot to open when he saw Kageyama getting confessed to. Again. Tsukishima starts to walk back to his class, not checking whether or not Yamaguchi is following him.
“Kageyama did get a bit fitter over the summer, huh? Maybe it’s the hair? He cut it shorter, right?” Yamaguchi hums as he falls to the steps next to Tsukishima. “Handsome. His jawline is even more defined now.”
“You’re acting like you just saw him. We saw each other over the summer, too,” Tsukishima replies dryly, set on not looking at Yamaguchi, scared at what look he might be giving Tsukishima. They did see each other over at the end of the summer. It was two weeks before school opened again. They had a summer camp in Tokyo again for a week, which meant Tsukishima hadn’t seen Kageyama for maybe three weeks. Surely, someone can’t change that fast? But Kageyama did. Or maybe the three weeks of not seeing Kageyama made Tsukishima realised how fucking grown Kageyama was, something he failed to realise when third year started, or maybe something Kageyama had been working on ever since third year? Who knows what goes on in his mind, really? Definitely not Tsukishima.
Tsukishima did notice at that time, when they were waiting for everyone to come before they boarded the bus. It was comical in a way, the lazy steps Tsukishima took as he arrived at school suddenly became frigid when he saw Kageyema. His hair did change. Instead of the weird way his fringe had always looked like, it’s kind of the same, except he has an undercut now, and his fringe is not the usual way it covers his eyes a little, maybe trimmed just a little to not obscure his vision. Kageyama’s thighs seemed to be even thicker with muscles, and his face that had still remained the same round-shaped ever since first year, had somehow sharpened itself over the summer. Maybe Tsukishima just noticed?
Kageyama, at that time, noticed Tsukishima staring had coloured a little, stomping his feet, startling the sleepy second years who were leaning on the bus, and they grumbled a little at Kageyama, but Kageyama ignored them, glaring at Tsukishima. Yamaguchi, who was next to the second years, chuckled, patting them on the back “Oi. What are you staring at?!”
Tsukishima had refused to let himself get embarrassed, and turned his strides confidently towards Kageyama. “Hmm?” Tsukishima had teased, and he flicked the undercut of Kageyama’s hair. Tsukishima pretended to not notice the way Kageyama shuddered. It was a chilly summer, and it was still dawn. “You look different, King.” Tsukishima had pretended to check out Kageyama, carefully taking in the way his joggers seemed tighter now, taking in the way Kageyama tightened the hold he had on his jacket over his left arm, making his biceps bulge just the right way.
“Shut the fuck up,” Kageyama had grumbled. “My mom made me get the haircut, okay?”
Tsukishima had hummed, leaning on the van, next to Yamaguchi. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Insufferable,” Kageyama had muttered under his breath, the tips of his ears colouring, as he resolutely stared at the gates, as if he’d rather look at anything other than Tsukishima.
Yamaguchi, who had been watching the whole thing silently, elbowed Tsukishima, raising his eyebrows in the way Tsukishima didn’t want to comprehend, so Tsukishima had put on his headphones, until the rest of his teammates came, and pretended to not be staring at Kageyama’s biceps. Tokyo happened, and school reopened, and now, here they are.
With people evidently noticing how hot Kageyama had gotten in just a month and a half, and half the school population confessing their love to him now. Because it’s a thing, now, apparently. To find Kageyama hot. It’s only been two weeks since school reopened from that term break.
Yamaguchi hums. “Hmm, you’re right. It has only been two weeks. Kageyama surely is popular now, huh?” Tsukishima hadn’t realised he had said it out loud. Tsukishima quickened his steps, and Yamaguchi easily catches up, too used to Tsukishima avoiding talks like these. “How many confessions he has gotten now?” Eight. “Five? Six?” Eight.
“Why do you care so much about him?” Tsukishima grumbles, pushing open the door to their classroom. “Go confess to him. Make it nine.”
“Ohh,” Yamaguchi says happily as he slides in his seat, which is unfortunately right next to Tsukishima, and Tsukishima realised where he went wrong. “You did keep count, Tsukki!”
“Stop it, Yamaguchi.”
“I’m just saying. It’s been too long. All the fighting flirting has gotten old, you know.”
Something in Tsukishima’s heart pulls again. Tsukishima ignores it. “Now you’re just spitting bullshit.”
The conversation ends, as their History teacher walks in just as the bell rings. Yamaguchi gives him a look that translates to him not letting this conversation go.
Tsukishima couldn’t care less.
-
Apparently, the Kageyama fanclub has now taken residence in the gym.
“Oh, we have an audience,” Yamaguchi whistles, as he steps into the gym with Tsukishima next to him.
Tsukishima tries to not be an asshole, really. Really.
In fact, he managed to only give a cursory glance to the group of people at the left side of the gym the moment he entered the gym, and he managed to ignore Kageyama’s somewhat apologetic eyes trailing after him and Yamaguchi, as he sat down to start stretching. It’s Kageyama’s fault that he approached Tsukishima when Tsukishima is already in this shitty ass mood. It’s because of Maths earlier. It was a hard class.
“Oi,” Kageyama says, looming over them, tone embarrassed, face a little flushed. Tsukishima’s first thought is that Kageyama really shouldn’t look like that.
Tsukishima gives him a disinterested glance before stretching his arm to reach the tips of his feet. “What?”
“Hey, Kageyama,” Yamaguchi says brightly, following Tsukishima’s stretch. “Nice flock of people you got there.” Yamaguchi, although the words sounded cruel, managed to make it sound nice. It’s the captain impact Tsukishima can never imitate as a vice captain. He’s either an asshole or neutral asshole. He’s trying really hard to contain the asshole-y behaviour now, though. Tsukishima hears quick steps of excited running, and Tsukishima braces himself for the slap on his back that he knows is coming.
Slap! Slap!
Yamaguchi winces, giving Hinata a disapproving glance that Hinata shamelessly smiles at, bouncing at the balls of his feet. “Can you believe Kageyama has a fanclub now? Who does he think he is? Oikawa?”
“Jesus,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath. He twists his body now, so that the muscles in his hips are stretched. Tsukishima pretends to not notice the way Kageyama glances at the way Tsukishima’s shirt rides up a little.
“Shut up, idiot!” Kageyama yells at Hinata, and Hinata sticks his tongue at him. Tsukishima sometimes wonders why the school thinks these two deserved to be in third year when they still act like they’re in first year. Kageyama didn’t look like this in first year, Tsukishima’s mind supplies traitorously, and Tsukishima shakes his head, making Kageyama look at him again. Tsukishima wants to whack him. Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him briefly, before deciding it’s futile, thus turning his eyes to Yamaguchi, an apologetic look already in his orbs. “Sorry, Yamaguchi. I tried telling them to go, but--”
“It’s fine,” Yamaguchi interrupts. “Moral support might be nice. The first and second years seem to be enjoying the attention.” All of them turn to look at the first and second years, somehow set on stretching next to those group of girls who kept giggling as the particularly shameless second year who reminds Tsukishima a little of Tanaka, named Hayato, does an exaggerated form of stretching that shows the curve of his ass, and honestly, practice hasn’t even started, but Tsukishima can feel the headache forming. Tsukishima opens his sports glasses for a moment, rubbing at the middle of his brows. Tsukishima ignores the worried look Kageyama gives him. Yamaguchi yells at Hayato. “Hey! Stretch properly, or you do two rounds of diving drills!”
Hayato has the gall to give his seniors a peace sign, before going back to talk to Kageyama’s fanclub as he stretches properly this time. Tsukishima puts back his sports glasses, and Kageyama glances at him again, before Tsukishima snaps, standing up. “What do you want me to say, King? Congrats on your fanclub? Finally? ”
Kageyama’s face hardens, looking almost embarrassed, as he stares back at Tsukishima’s condescending look. It crosses Tsukishima’s mind that he hasn’t changed that much since first year, too, if he still continues to taunt Kageyama like this. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You keep looking at me,” Tsukishima growls back. He steps closer towards Kageyama. They’re the same height now. Tsukishima used to be the taller one back then. So many things have fucking changed. Too much. Tsukishima can’t function like this. Not when he’s around like this.
Kageyama, rather than the usual snarky reply Tsukishima expected, coloured instead, stepping away from Tsukishima’s space, ardently avoiding eye contact with him. Usually, they’ll only back away when their noses touch. Kageyama swallows, giving Tsukishima a hard glare, and gesturing to the court. “Whatever. Let’s start.”
Tsukishima stares at Kageyama’s retreating figure, until Hinata gives a whistle. “Sooooo….”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tsukishima grumbles, walking away.
-
“Oi,” Tsukishima hears Kageyama says just as he steps out of the locker room. Tsukishima ignores him, walking away, convincing himself that Kageyama had called for someone else, but Kageyama is only ever this rude with him, anyways. Hinata a close second. “Tsukishima!” Ugh. Tsukishima stops, not turning back, instead waiting for Kageyama to catch up with him, which doesn’t take as long as Tsukishima stupidly hopes for since Kageyama is a stupid fast runner.
“What,” Tsukishima says bluntly, and he starts walking, Kageyama easily following him as if this is something they have been doing.
(It’s not.)
(The closest it has ever come to the two of them walking together was when Hinata and Yamaguchi were also present.)
(Why did Yamaguchi decide to be a good captain and help out those first years with their extra practice?)
“Could use a company,” Kageyama grumbles under his breath, looking up to the sky, as they walk out of the gates of the school. Tsukishima follows his gaze. There are little, barely there, specks of stars in the sky tonight. Tsukishima thinks he’ll always love that about Miyagi.
It feels wrong to not say anything, so Tsukishima, asshole mode apparently not shut, ever, says, “well, I couldn’t.”
Kageyama stops in his tracks, and Tsukishima looks at him, confusion tinting his orbs. “Do you ever stop being an asshole, Tsukishima? We’re in fucking third year, for fuck’s sake.”
“What? You got hot, and suddenly, you’re mature, too?” Tsukishima fires back easily, and he starts walking again, huffing as he does. Tsukishima can admit that what he said was something definitely unaccounted for, but it’s just fucking awkward. He doesn’t know how to act with this Kageyama. It’s like summer happened, and suddenly snarky Kageyama is replaced by this hotter, also snarky, but slightly tamped down version that Tsukishima cannot catch up with. Tsukishima’s fucking tired.
Kageyama kicks at Tsukishima’s knees gently, and Tsukishima’s knees buckle, stopping him in his tracks, as he tries to stupidly make them stand properly. “What the fuck, Kageyama?” Kageyama just watches blankly as Tsukishima regains the strength in his legs. “I jumped a lot today, you asshole.”
“I noticed,” Kageyama says softly. Tsukishima ignores the meaning behind it, like how he ignores everything. It’s silent for a second before Kageyama opens his stupid mouth. “You think I’m hot?”
“Jesus fuck,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath, and he takes that as the cue to push his headphones dangling around his neck to his ears, blocking any sounds Kageyama might make next. Kageyama, being Kageyama, pulls at the cord of his headphones, making it drop down to his neck again. Tsukishima makes a mental note to buy cordless headphones next. “Why are you here anyways? Isn’t Hinata also practicing? Why aren’t you with them?”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “I know when my body needs a break.” Silence again. Then, “stop avoiding the question.”
Tsukishima makes a noise of disbelief at that. What does he want Tsukishima to say? That yes, he looks hot, and yes, the things people have been saying about him is correct?
“I didn’t think I look too different, you know. I’ve only just been doing my usual workout routine, weights, core, cardio, anyways, nothing new.” Tsukishima holds his breath to stop himself from thinking of Kageyama lifting weights. There’s something about that sight that makes something in Tsukishima’s stomach curl. “But many people pointed it out, it’s getting annoying.” If it were from any other people, that sentence might have come across as attention seeking, but Tsukishima knows Kageyama enough to know that he meant it, which makes it even more annoying. Kageyama touches his undercut, and Tsukishima’s breath gets stuck in his throat for some reason. “Or maybe it’s the haircut?” Kageyama looks at Tsukishima, as if expecting an answer from him.
Tsukishima shoots him an unimpressed look. “What do you want me to say, anyway? You do look different.” Hotter, is what Tsukishima doesn’t say. “Guess your workout routine is paying off,” Tsukishima adds dryly.
“Well,” Kageyama says seriously. He shuffles his feet a little against the pavement. He kicks at Tsukishima’s shoe, and Tsukishima glares at him. “How different?”
“Are you fishing for compliments right now?” Tsukishima scoffs. “Be more subtle, Kageyama.”
“No,” Kageyama says fiercely. “You’d never lie. So, anything from you is probably something objective. Tell me what’s different now. The start of third year was the same as any other. It was only after summer that people started saying stuff.”
Tsukishima snorts. “Your fanclub. Just say fanclub.” When Kageyama doesn’t say anything back, Tsukishima sighs. “You got buffier, or something. Like, your thighs got bigger, biceps got bigger, but your waist is still fucking small, which, like, whatever. I saw the measurement for the new uniform, stop looking at me like that.” Kageyama looks flushed for some reason. Tsukishima sighs, before continuing. “It’s mostly the hair, probably. Something about the undercut kind of makes you look fucking hot, or whatever.” Tsukishima glances at Kageyama, to find him adamantly looking away from Tsukishima. Tsukishima coughs. “What they’ve been saying anyways.”
They walk in silence for some more, and they’re almost at the junction where they have to part to go to their respective homes when Kageyama speaks up again. “Well, do you like it?”
They’re at the junction now. Tsukishima could run now.
“Why do you need my opinion on it, anyway? Not like you could ask for your hair back for the undercut.”
Kageyama seems adamant on ignoring the bullshit Tsukishima is spewing, his eyes resolutely looking back at Tsukishima’s, blue, like a fucking royal. “Because your opinion is the only one I care about.”
Tsukishima stares back blankly, trying not to translate in his eyes how uncomfortably his heart is beating right now. “Yeah, it looks good.” Kageyama’s eyes widen a little, so Tsukishima says, “definitely will rake up those fanclub numbers, Kageyama.” Tsukishima looks away, starting to walk away, because that’s all he’s capable of doing.
Tsukishima doesn’t hear Kageyama’s reply. If there is any reply, anyways.
-
Tsukishima seriously wonders if it’s his cosmic luck that he keeps running into Kageyama while he’s getting confessed to.
Tsukishima also wonders when the fuck is this burn in his chest will fucking cease.
Tsukishima should’ve known better than to choose this vending machine again, since this seems to be the optimal spot for Kageyama’s confession rendezvous, but this is the only vending machine close enough to his class, and the one that has his favourite drink, so really, Kageyama should be the one that stops setting up his confessions at this area. But Tsukishima supposes it’s a good place. The vending machine is at the end of the hallway, right next to another less quiet hallway, which is where Kageyama is always getting confessed to.
Tsukishima hears the now-rehearsed line again. “Sorry, I don’t think I like you that way.” The burn in Tsukishima’s chest both calms down, and hurts even more. Tsukishima is tired. Tsukishima is just about to walk away with his can again like last time, when he hears the girl speak up.
“Can I know why? Is it because of me?” The girl asks, and honestly, Tsukishima feels a little bad for her. Not bad enough that he wants to leave before listening to Kageyama’s probably stupid answer, but it leaves a bitter tinge in his mouth as he continues to listen.
“I like someone else. I really like him.” Kageyama says bluntly, confident and clear, like it’s not an answer he pulled out of his ass. Something in Tsukishima burns again, and Tsukishima wants to dig out whatever it is in his chest with his bare hands, and throw it to the ground. It’s tiring with this weight.
The girl makes a sound of surprise. “Oh? It’s a guy. Do I know him?”
Kageyama sighs exasperatedly, and Tsukishima expects him to tell the girl to go away, but then he says: “No, I don’t think so, and I think it’s lucky you don’t. He’s an asshole.”
“Yet you like him?” The girl inquires, confusion clear in her sweet voice.
“Uh, yeah, I don’t get it either.”
The girl shuffles lightly on her feet, tucking her strayed hair behind her ear demurely. “Well, I guess it’s the same for me. I don’t know why I like you, too.”
Kageyama looks beyond uncomfortable at this point, and Tsukishima wants to laugh. But then, Kageyama, who at this point surely lives to surprise Tsukishima, smiles apologetically at the girl, and sincerely says, “I’m really sorry.” Maybe that’s one thing about Kageyama that Tsukishima can acknowledge, other than his fucking crazy skills in volleyball; his sincerity. How he can never lie, and how he’s so sincere sometimes that Tsukishima has to look away, afraid of what might happen when he looks closer. How sometimes his eyes show the depths of his emotions, as if he’s unable to hide it from his eyes in a way Tsukishima always does.
The girl, seeming to be accepting the rejection, touches Kageyama’s arm, and something in Tsukishima burns. “It’s alright, Kageyama. He’s a lucky guy, huh?”
“Yeah, well,” Kageyama says absentmindedly, and he picks at his undercut. Tsukishima looks away for a moment. A few seconds later, the girl pats Kageyama’s arm one last time before saying her goodbye, and walking away from Kageyama. She passes Tsukishima, and Tsukishima can see how pretty she is. Demure, pretty, the kind of girl who is anyone’s type. Tsukishima watches as she skips ahead, steps unlike someone who just got rejected by someone.
Though, Tsukishima guesses, if he got a rejection as gentle as Kageyama’s, he, too, would be indifferent about it.
Not that he thinks about getting rejected by Kageyama.
Not that he even wants to confess to Kageyama.
Ugh.
Tsukishima isn’t looking at Kageyama anymore, but Tsukishima hears Kageyama sighs out loud.
Tsukishima chooses that moment to noisily open his can of soda, and Kageyama cranes his neck to look at the person near the vending machine. When he sees Tsukishima, the tips of his ears bright red, and he’s breathing hard, as if to keep his temper in check. “Tsukishima?! How long have you fucking been there, asshole? It’s not nice to fucking listen in on a conversation.”
Tsukishima gives him a dirty look. “What’s new, anyways? It’s just you rejecting another girl.” Tsukishima regrets those words the moment it leaves his mouth. The regret deepens when Kageyama looks at him with both anger and hurt. His eyes are so bright, Tsukishima thinks, thoughts out of place from this current situation.
“You’re acting like I’m doing this on purpose,” Kageyama says tiredly, the fire in his eyes from earlier gone, the hurt and anger faded away into lethargy, almost, and if Tsukishima thinks he couldn’t feel any more guilty, something drops in his stomach at seeing the emotions clearly translated in Kageyama’s eyes. Kageyama steps closer to him, and Tsukishima watches. The way Kageyama is looking at him intently, trying to get his point across. “I’m not. Just in case your dumbass brain can’t comprehend that.”
The moment is broken just like that. Tsukishima scoffs, because that’s all he knows how to do. He’s not used to this. Kageyama who can control his anger, and not lash out. Kageyama who relents. Kageyama who is nice. Kageyama who is nice to look at. Tsukishima starts to walk away, but Kageyama’s tug on his uniform stops him on his tracks. He cranes his neck to look at Kageyama.
“Borrow me money,” Kageyama petulantly, jutting his mouth, and Tsukishima blindly looks at it for a moment before realising that Kageyama’s mouth is pointing to the vending machine. Tsukishima sighs inaudibly, and gives him a dirty look, a retort ready at the edge of his tongue, but then Kageyama, as if expecting it, quickly says, “the least you could do. Since you eavesdropped on a conversation you’re not supposed to hear.”
Tsukishima sighs as he takes out his money, giving a note to Kageyama, and Kageyama takes it easily, entering the note to the money slot, and like a loser, picks out milk, out of all the choices, and bends down to pick it up when it drops. Tsukishima thinks it’s instinct that his eyes follow the way Kageyama bends down to pick it up, and it’s definitely the weather that is making his throat suddenly parched. Tsukishima takes a sip from his own drink.
Kageyama pokes his milk with the straw, and Tsukishima thinks this truly deserves at least a tease. “You know, you’re like, old enough to stop drinking milk.”
Kageyama looks at him, and their eye contact maintains for a few seconds before Kageyama shrugs. “Why not? It’s obviously working, isn’t it? You did say I got hotter.”
Tsukishima curses under his breath, and starts to walk away from Kageyama. Kageyama follows easily, and tugs at Tsukishima’s sleeves. Tsukishima glances at him, and huffs. “You don’t get to bring that up.”
Kageyama makes a face. “Why not? You said it to me, didn’t you?”
Yeah, Tsukishima dug his own grave with this one. Tsukishima brings back the milk topic. “What? You found out from primary school Science that milk makes your bones strong, and makes you grow, and you never looked back ever since?”
It’s supposed to be teasing. But Kageyama, being Kageyama, hums. “Yeah, pretty much.” Tsukishima, defeated, stays silent, slowly sipping on his drink as he walks. “Hey.” Kageyama says, and Tsukishima hates how he takes a sharp breath, as if afraid of what might come next. When Tsukishima doesn’t answer, Kageyama pokes his waist. Tsukishima grunts in acknowledgement. “You’re not gonna ask who the guy is?”
Tsukishima’s heart burns again at the reminder of the conversation Kageyama had earlier with the girl. Tsukishima sighs, sliding his glasses down his nose bridge to rub at his nose. “Do you want me to ask?”
“Maybe,” Kageyama mumbles, sounding conflicted. “Dunno.”
“Ugh,” Tsukishima says as a reply. It’s silent again. Tsukishima speaks again. It feels wrong to ignore it when they’ve stepped into that territory already. “I won’t out you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not that much of an asshole, King.”
Kageyama glances at him, and Tsukishima, fucking drawn to him, glances back. His eyes are so honest. “I know you aren’t.”
They’re in front of Tsukishima’s classroom now, and Tsukishima feels glad, the atmosphere between them so thick, it’s hard to get out of, almost like a fog. “Yeah, well,” Tsukishima says awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. Tsukishima is just about to enter his class, when Kageyama stops him again by tugging his uniform. His uniform could really stretch at this point. “What?”
Kageyama stares at him, hard-headed, a look familiar to Tsukishima in all this haze of this new Kageyama. “I know you wouldn’t tell people. I wish you’d ask. I wish you read more into things. For someone so smart, you’re surely a fucking idiot.” As if to prove his point, he looks up to Tsukishima’s class sign, 3-4, it boasts. Kageyama starts walking back to his class, and doesn’t look back.
Tsukishima resists the urge to go after him, and enters his class, sliding into his seat. Yamaguchi, a book opened on his table, leans to Tsukishima’s seat, and Tsukishima rests his head on his table, right next to his drink, closing his eyes. He wishes he couldn’t hear the teasing tone of Yamaguchi’s next words. “Was that Kageyama I just saw?”
“His ghost,” Tsukishima mumbles. When Yamaguchi cackles, Tsukishima sighs. “Drop it.”
Suddenly, there is knocking on his table, and Tsukishima doesn’t have a choice, but to look up, a glare already on his features. It’s the girl sitting in front of him, looking at him excitedly, her bottom lips bitten in excitement. “That was Kageyama! He’s gotten sooo hot. Can I have his number, Tsukishima?”
Tsukishima makes a strangled sound at his throat, and something in his heart burns again. “Go away,” Tsukishima says, the girl pouts at him cutely, and he goes back to his face on his desk. “Ask Yamaguchi.”
Tsukishima hears Yamaguchi frantic apologies, something along the lines of it’s private information! and something like, Tsukki will get angry!
All Tsukishima can think of is Kageyama’s words from earlier all jumbled up, into this one huge lump that has taken residence in Tsukishima’s heart, throat, and mind..
You’re an idiot.
I like someone else. I really like him.
He’s an asshole.
I don’t get it either.
I wish you’d read more into things.
-
Tsukishima should’ve seen it coming from a mile away, really.
Yamaguchi has always been adamant that he needs to do something about Tsukishima’s personal life, so really, this shouldn’t be any fucking different. Of course, he would meddle. Of course.
But bringing the whole team into this?
Hinata? Sure, even expected.
Yachi? Definitely would get dragged into this anyways, since whether or not Tsukishima likes to admit it, their little third year ensemble has always been a team. Ever since first year.
But the whole fucking team?
Unfair.
“Stop fuming, you’re making it even more suffocating here, you know,” Kageyama says gruffly, leaning against the wall, next to the pitcher in the store room, closing his eyes.
“Energies aren’t fucking real, King,” Tsukishima snaops back, annoyed, not at Kageyama admittedly, but at the team, but Kageyama is the only one he can vent out his anger to right now, so he does it at him. He immediately regrets it, like he always does.
“Stop taking out your anger at me, Jesus fuck, I don’t even know why I like you so much when you treat me like this,” Kageyama grumbles. Tsukishima pauses, suddenly the fast breathing of his heart isn’t from the anger he felt, but rather Kageyama’s words. Kageyama opens his eyes, as if suddenly registering his words, then he stands up properly, and shuffles on his feet, adamantly not looking at Tsukishima. “C’mon, you knew that already, Tsukishima. I’ve been so obvious.”
It started like this: practice. Kageyama wearing shorts that should not be as short as they are. Yamaguchi getting fed up that Tsukishima’s block kept missing because he kept looking at Kageyama. A lot of yelling with Kageyama for no particular reason when break started, Tsukishima getting irritated at the look of Kageyama’s fanclub that has taken a dent at the corner of the gym, and the next thing he knew he saw angry Yamaguchi with Yachi in tow marching towards the two of them, and he got dragged to the store room by the juniors, a click of a lock, and here they fucking are.
With the weight of the confession hanging heavy between them.
“Tsukishima, say something,” Kageyama says slowly. It’s kind of dark in the store room, but there’s enough hue and light that Tsukishima can see Kageyama’s form in the dark. The others should really unlock them soon. They’re ravages for water, anyways, and the pitcher is only available here. Tsukishima goes over to Kageyama, leaning next to him on the wall. Kageyama, flustered again, kicks at Tsukishima’s foot. Hard. “Say something!”
Tsukishima bites his lips hard to not scream, and he takes his foot, tending to it. “What the fuck am I supposed to even say to that?”
“I don’t know, anything!” Kageyama yells, and he looks sorry enough for Tsukishima that he sighs, flicking Tsukishima’s arm softly in apology.
They’re silent for a while. Tsukishima sighs. “C’mon. I was obvious too, Kageyama.”
Tsukishima can see Kageyama shuffling his feet awkwardly, kicking softly at Tsukishima’s foot, the ache earlier has calmed down. Kageyama moves closer to Tsukishima, their arms are touching now. “What do I fucking know, anyways? You’re so hard to read.”
“I check you out multiple times a day. I called you hot,” Tsukishima says bluntly, embarrassment pooling at his tummy. Tsukishima glances at Kageyama, and is pleased to see, at least, that Kageyama looks a little flushed too. This talking thing with the two of them has always been hard. “It’s hard to look away from you, sometimes,” Tsukishima admits, because in this room, it feels safe to admit it.
Tsukishima hears Kageyama’s breath hitch. Kageyama coughs, and suddenly stomps his feet resolutely. “Well, I’ve been more obvious. I wanted you to ask about my crush, dude. I begged you to call me hot. I’m literally so obviously into you.” The what took you so long? remains unsaid. An uncharted territory either of them are scared to step into.
Tsukishima thinks it’s fair. Tsukishima sighs, and he leans away from the wall, to stare at Kageyama. Kageyama who got hot over a short amount over the summer. Kageyama, who holds his whole emotions in his blue eyes, Kageyama who reminds Tsukishima of the sea, cal, but an unexpected tide that comes once in a while. A fucking enigma. Kageyama, whom Tsukishima is so scared of falling for, and Kageyama who makes it hard to look away. Kageyama, the person, if Tsukishima looks even closer than he has done all these years, whom Tsukishima likes to tease without fail. It’s been three years now, a part of Tsukishima whispers.
Kageyama, who somehow, luckily, someone who likes Tsukishima back.
Tsukishima places his hand next to Kageyama’s head. They’re really the same height now, Tsukishima thinks absentmindedly. Tsukishima leans in, and something pleasant in Tsukishima’s heart tugs, unfamiliar, despite how nice it feels, when Kageyama leans forward, too, seeming to be drawn to Tsukishima’s hot mouth. Tsukishima makes a noise for a second, stopping.
“Are you sure?” Tsukishima whispers against Kageyama’s mouth. No going back now. If you back out now, at least I don’t know what I’m missing. Please.
Kageyama tugs at Tsukishima’s collar, pulling him forward. It’s a bit damp, from sweat in this humid room, and from their short practice earlier. It should be gross. Right now, it just feels hot. “Tsukki,” Kageyama whispers, and something in Tsukishima just fucking burns intensely, it feels so good. Tsukishima takes a sharp breath. “Kei?” Kageyama tries, and something travels down to Tsukishima’s groin. “I’ve always wondered how you would react if I ever call you that.”
I’d never thought I would be able to, were the unsaid words.
Tsukishima leans in, taking in Kageyama’s hot mouth. It all suddenly clicked from there. All the glances Kageyama had been giving to him, all the questions asking how exactly he changed, preening in a way, now that Tsukishima thinks about it, and Tsukishima deepens the kiss, and Kageyama makes a noise at the back of his throat that makes Tsukishinma’s toes fucking curl. He’s an asshole, Tsukishima remembers Kageyama saying, Tsukishima remembers the tugs on his sleeve, and the tug on his uniform. The gentle way Kageyama looks at Tsukishima sometimes, like he deserves to be looked that way. Tsukishima can feel at this exact moment, the way Kageyama’s right hand is on Tsukshima’s waist, constantly pulling him closer, as if he doesn’t want any space between them, and the other hand is on Tsukishima’s collar, pulling him even more deeply. Tsukishima licks at the roof of Kageyama’s mouth for one last time before pulling away, and Tsukishima has to take a sharp breath when Kageyama’s mouth chases after him.
Jesus.
“So,” Kageyama says, coughing, and he wipes his mouth, saliva pooling around it that shouldn’t look so appealing to Tsukishima.
Tsukishima wipes his own mouth. “So.” Tsukishima takes Kageyama’s hand that is still on his waist, and intertwines it together. “Are we--” Just as Tsukishima is about to say something, the store room’s door rattles open with hurried unlocking, and the door opens wide to Hayato and Hinata running in to the water pitcher, hurriedly filling in their water bottles.
“Ah, Yamaguchi!” Hinata yells out, just as he spotted Tsukishima and Kageyama intertwined hands. Kageyama, obviously embarrassed, tries to pull away, but Tsukishima holds on tighter, and Kageyama looks grateful. It dawns on Tsukishima that he had done that because he’s scared Tsukishima will get embarrassed. “It worked! They’re holding hands!”
“Jesus fuck,” Tsukishima curses, and Hayato at least has the conscience to look apologetic. Tsukishima starts rubbing his forehead again, and Kageyama looks at him worriedly. “I’m alright,” Tsukishima mouths to him.
Hinata pushes them both by shoulders, and this time, they do let go of their intertwined hands, not quite ready for the whole world to see, yet. “C’mon! Just because you guys are together now, doesn’t mean you can slack!”
“You were the one who locked us together,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath, and Yamaguchi, who managed to hear it, yells out: “And it worked!”
Hinata finally lets them go, and winks at the two of them cheekily before running off, not before yelling, “Kageyama, Tsukishima, your turn in court now! Five minutes break!”
Tsukishima rolls his eyes at Hinata, and he hears Kageyama next to him sigh. Tsukishima can see that Kageyama’s fanclub is not here anymore. Tsukishima cannot resist pointing it out. “Your fanclub isn’t here anymore.”
Kageyama glares at him, stomping at his foot again, this time softly. “You know it doesn’t matter to me if they like me. I like that they support me in Volleyball, but that’s it.”
It matters more to me that you care. That you like me.
Tsukishima lazily smiles at him, and pokes at his waist. “I know. I do, too.”
I will. I do. I like you as much as you like me. Maybe more, if I’m being honest.
Kageyama’s answering nudge to his hips before the game starts is all Tsukishima needs as an answer.