Chapter Text
Yamaguchi laid his head lightly on his desk, resisting the pecking urge to impulsively slam it against the tabletop. Of course Karasuno’s official pinch-server knew that wouldn’t be the wisest of moves...as his desk was smack-dab in the middle of the classroom and it just happened that the entire room was dead silent. So much, in fact, that the second-hand of the clock rang louder than the silence underneath.
Not that Yama could hear it. Not over the pounding, throbbing echo his heart pumping through his eardrums. Of course, he thought, I can actually hear myself think now.
That...wasn’t exactly a particularly good thing. Each thought coursing through his brain felt like it hurt. Actually, now that he was thinking about it, his entire body hurt. The muscles ached and clenched, making their presence known loudly. Gosh, volleyball practice in this state was not going to be fun at all.
Tsukishima glanced up from his novel and shared a bored look with the rest of the room, clearly not super invested in whatever he was cramming into his skull. His eyes landed on Yamaguchi and rested there for a moment, wondering what the issue was. The little tuft of hair that always stood up on his head even looked a little more droopy than usual, as if that was the indication he needed. The clock read that only five minutes remained in the period, which happened to be before lunch, so he wouldn’t have to wonder for too much longer.
Disinterested in the english words printed in the hardback he was holding, Tsukki dog-eared the page gently and discarded it quietly on the desktop.
Settling for staring out the window for the rest of class, he rested his chin on his hand with an elbow propped. The sun shone just barely over the building, eclipsed by the roof that towered above. Six slick blackbirds danced for balance on the roof of the easily-visible volleyball gym before fluttering away in one accord.
“Tsukishima-san, why aren’t you reading?” A rather stern-looking lady locked on to the blonde and characteristically held a ruler tight in her hand.
Tsukki opened his mouth to speak, but was saved by the bell. Yama rose sluggishly, a small, sheepish look plastered on his face. Stuck so much so, the middle-blocker was sure it was stuck with such an invincible glue.
Invincible like Ushijuma. But...as Ukai said: he wasn’t invincible either, and rather, a mere (super) human. Just as the Iron Wall of Date Tech seemed impossible to break...it was broken anyway.
The look Tadashi wore was...unsettling. He was always so bright, beaming wherever he went, setting the room alight subtly. The joy he brought to the room was deceiving, but when he wasn’t there it was clear the moon eclipsed more obviously.
“Yamaguchi-san, what’s up with you?” The tallest member of the team lengthened his stride to catch up with his friend. He maintained his same tone: bored and for the most part seemingly uninterested with whatever the answer would be.
“I don’t feel super well, Tsukki-chan,” He responded and shoved his hands into the pockets of the embroidered volleyball jacket after zipping it up all the way.
Tsukishima didn’t even have a jacket on and was near...sweating? He then fumbled with his headphones that rested around his neck, “Why did you zip it up all the way? No one does that—”
“Chill, dude, it’s freezing in here!” The outburst was uncontrolled. Students who strolled through the hallway turned to stare for a moment as they walked by.
“Not so loud—” he hunkered down, dodging the slicing glares as if Yama and his towering stature could be his shield. Anyway, he was hunched over slightly, barely able to support the weight of his own head. “Wait, is it hot in here to you?”
Rubbing his neck nervously with a downcast offset resting face, he said, “Yeah, kinda.”
“You really aren’t feeling well,” tone: bored, unchanged. As always.
“Not...really.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to practice today, Yama-san.”
A head of carrot-orange hair wedged its way between them, a grin smearing their face. Yamaguchi stiffened at the sharp movement and his delayed reflexes. Hinata bounced around like he normally did and sounded even louder than he usually was.
“Hinata, what do you want?” Tsukishima asked.
“Nothing much, just to say hi!”
“Well, could you please be quieter?”
“Why be quieter when I could totally embarrass the tallest player on our team?!”
Yamaguchi winced and squirmed uneasily, fingering the fuzz in the pocket of his jacket. Hinata’s voice felt like it was bouncing around within his head, making it pound with each exclaimed syllable.
Tsukki snapped, reaching for the collar of Hinata’s shirt and crumpling it skin-tight within his fist, “listen, Yama-san isn’t feeling well and you are not helping. So, unless you want me to make you feel worse than he’s probably feeling, I suggest you chill. Out.”
Hinata stiffened board-straight in shock, then scrambled away like a kicked puppy, “sorry, Tsukki-san.”
“Don’t call me that, and don't apologize to me,” he looked away distantly and shoveled his hands into his pockets. The not-so-energetic mid-blocker turned solemnly towards their pinch-server. Who, as ill as ever, stood frozen-shocked. It wasn’t like he wanted to be the reason his friends were fighting and angrily grabbing each others’ shirts...
“I’m sorry, Yamaguchi-san. I didn’t mean to cause any harm—”
“No, no, no,” he waved his hands in front of himself, “it’s okay. There’s no problem here.”
His played-off smile didn’t fool anyone.
“Well, then I think I’ll go to lunch now. I’m really sorry you don’t feel well, Yamaguchi-san. I hope you feel better soon! We have an awesome practice ahead of us!” He accompanied it with a bow and then spirited away, probably planning to race Kageyama somewhere. They always did. Just couldn’t settle to be normal human beings. Tsukki rolled his eyes.
Hinata probably thought the last added bit would help Yama to feel better. Maybe to...reassure him?
In reality, all it did was make him feel bad. He’d definitely have to push through now. Anyway, it wasn’t like it was the beginning of the week. Friday practices weren’t usually all that bad and the weekend would give him time to recoup. Perfect, just get through the practice and then recover. A good plan.
Coach always said that to rebuild their muscles and recover they had to eat a well-balanced meal. But, that sounded really, really bad right now. His stomach seriously might reject anything he put into it and firm resolve clashed against lowering energy.
“You’ve gotta eat something, Yama—” Tsukishima said flatly.
“You’re starting to sound like coach Ukai, Tsukki-chan.”
“Maybe because he’s right.”
“Honestly, he almost always is. I’m just not feeling like eating anything. I don’t know if my weak stomach could hold on to it anyway,” he sat uneasily, wishing to check-out for a while. Maybe a nap? Right here? Yeah.
“Alright, then,” he paused, wishing for Yamaguchi’s discomfort to cease. Of course he wouldn’t tell him or anyone that, but he did. He’d do anything in the world. Hop into hot lava, stick a hand into fire, plunge into a frozen pond; the whole nine yards.
Yama planted his head into his forearms, resting them gently on the cold table. Tsukishima took a bite of a sandwich, then another.
Sidelong glances met dark green locks. The complexity of the spikes much more messy than usual, the apparency of Yama’s disheveled appearance became more clear.
In the room full of people, The six-foot-one middle blocker felt...awkward.
Which then lead to fear.
...And then guilt. Pounding, shameful guilt.
Why was he so hesitant to be there for his friend—or was he more that just that? It didn’t matter. Why couldn’t he just be the person Tadashi needed him to be right now?
Then, the guilt flooded him. First, gripping his throat and constricting his trachea. His heart ba-thumped against his ribcage, legs wishing to run a million miles away, yet settling to bounce up and down instead. Rather than acting normal, his face heated and sweat formed uncomfortably in his armpits.
Did I forget to use deodorant today?
Awkward. He’s pretty sure he did. Gross.
Softly, he lifts the hand not grasping the sandwich—which suddenly had tight-gripped craters in the soft bread—and brushed the little hair that outcropped at the top of Yamaguchi’s head. Gaining confidence, but refusing to look up, he ran his hand through his hair. Lightly brushing the hairs out of his face and gracefully tucking them behind his ear.
Visibly, the other relaxed, not even surprised. Not a bit. Whispering a ‘thank you’, he allowed his war-torn body to calm, despite the louder room. Tsukishima finished his lunch quietly. Words really didn’t need to be said...they would not’ve changed anything except the tranquility Tadashi had managed.
Smiling gently, Kei stopped reluctantly, stood, and threw his trash away. When Yama didn’t even stir, that was the last straw. Sleeping in public, surrounded by loud students with no personal connections to them was not something the pinch-server—under normal circumstances—could manage. Normally, he even had trouble sleeping during the training camps in the same big room with the team.
“Alright, Yama-kun. We’re gonna get you a bit of help,” and resolved to find one of the upperclassman. Finding Daichi, Sugawara, or Asahi wouldn’t be too hard. Maybe he could even find Takeda-sensei...