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The smallest of noises reach him first: the ticking of the wall clock in the room, the rustling of leaves in the garden, the panting of a dog. He hears the low murmur of thunder far away. Is there a storm outside?
Wait .
Kei’s eyes snap open, and he straightens as he sits up on his veranda. The garden is still sunny, but the sky hangs low, heavy with grey clouds.
That’s when a wet nose pushes against his elbow, and he jumps.
He knew something was not right, and not the storm, though definitely, he should take the drying laundry in before things get rained on. But the dog, a giant, light furred thing wagging its tail beside him, does not belong to this household.
The instinct to push the dog’s face away before it could lick his face wins over his worries that it may bite him, and to Kei’s relief, the dog willingly steps back from his personal space – albeit licking Kei’s palm in the way.
Kei lets out a heavy sigh. He has to fight off several urges: to herd the dog outside his garden and let it find its home on its own, to leave the dog in the garden and close the veranda door to climb up the stairs so he can continue his nap and to simply lay down back again and sleep. His university exams have taken so much out of him. He is drained, tired, and fed up – a dog out of nowhere is not something he has the energy to deal with.
Still, Kei may be an asshole to humans but dogs didn’t do anything to deserve his contempt. Plus, this one seems extra friendly, too.
Kei sighs again, raising on his knees to scoot over to the dog to check its collar. The least he can do is to call its owner.
Kei tries to hold the animal in one place with one arm, while with his free hand he reaches for the small tag on the collar.
Kei , it reads.
Or actually, it does not. Firefly, more likely.
Kei shakes after his double-take. Seeing the kanji of his own name takes him by surprise, but surely, it is nothing but a coincidence.
He turns the tag and reads the details. There is no address or the name of an owner there, but a phone number. It takes him a few struggle-filled minutes to finally get all the digits right and entered into his phone – the dog, Firefly, is way too energetic to stay in place and does not listen to its name, or to orders like stay very much.
The phone rings for a while before it transfers to the automatic voice message.
Kei does not recall a time he left a voice message to anyone.
Or, in fact, that he listened to his own voice messages if there are any.
Hence, he hangs up, plopping down on his couch.
Firefly follows him into the living room, but it stops right before jumping up next to Kei, turning his head as if asking for permission.
“No,” Kei says sternly. “I don’t like the fact that you walked right in, either, I’ll have to mop up afterward, but the sofa is an absolute no.”
Firefly whimpers, planting its head in Kei’s lap.
“What do you want? Pats?” Kei asks, scratching the dog’s head absent-mindedly. “Don’t get too used to it. Once your owner picks up the phone and comes for you, we are done, you hear me?”
Even if Firefly heard, it would be highly unlikely that a dog understands human speech, Kei reminds himself. For a split second, he feels endlessly thankful Yamaguchi was not here to witness this: some days Kei could bet his oldest friend makes it his life’s goal to collect and immortalize all of Kei’s weaknesses to spread them later at an opportune moment.
Firefly holds its head in a way for Kei to be able to scratch behind its ears, and Kei finds that patting this huge, fluffy creature is extremely relaxing – so much so, that he is almost dozing off again when his phone rings.
Kei stares at the screen for a second. He recognizes the last few digits of the caller’s number as the ones he struggled with inputting before.
The owner.
“Hello?” Kei picks up.
“Tsukishima?” comes a voice from the other end. “You called. I’m in the middle of something, but seeing your name among my missed calls… It’s unusual.”
Who?
Kei sits up straight, and the sudden movement must surprise Firefly because the dog jumps away from Kei and gives out a short bark.
“I have your dog,” Kei says because as much as he wants to know who the caller is, the list of people whose number he had gotten but never saved or deleted is longer than he would like to admit.
“Ah!” the man on the other end exclaims. “Thank God! That’s great! Don’t move from the spot you are, I’ll be there in a minute!” Kei’s guesses about the caller’s identity filter to those with limited brain capacity. “Where are you?”
“At home,” he replies before he could stop himself.
“At your family’s?” the caller asks back.
“Yeah.”
“Lucky! I’m just around the corner.”
Someone dumb. Excitable. Someone who knows where his parents live.
Kei’s heart stops beating.
The only two options that come to his mind are his troublesome ex-teammates, Kageyama, and Hinata.
Kageyama’s number, however, he has saved – Yamaguchi saved it on his phone the last time they went out to drink, along with adding him back to their 5-people group chat once again.
Hinata’s number, on the other hand. As even though he diligently deletes all numbers in his phone he deems irrelevant on the monthly, there is just this one number he kept in his phone for almost three years now, even if it had been since reallocated to someone in Hyogo prefecture. The only other number he knew, was the one Hinata used in Brazil, but he heard Hinata returned a few weeks ago, Yamaguchi filled Kei in on everything.
He must have gotten a new number then, Kei comes to the conclusion.
“Hey, Tsukishima, I’m at your door,” the voice in the phone says. “Do you want me to ring the bell, or?”
“Comin’,” Kei says, jumping up from the couch.
Firefly, as if it somehow sensed what’s going on, follows him.
This is not how Kei pictured their reunion. To be fair, he already bought the tickets to Hinata’s first official match, and he was hoping for the luxury to be able to see Hinata, to get used to his view before they will ever have the chance to as much as talk.
But here he stands, short as ever but bigger, broader, and much tanner, with freckles dusted over his nose and a wide smile plastered on his face.
“Tsukishima!” he greets, bright and loud and cheery as ever, and he promptly takes Kei’s breath away.
“H-hi,” Kei stutters, and his hands form fists in his frustration.
He behaves like some teenage kid, seeing their idol in real life for the first time when he is Tsukishima Kei, the cold and calculating blocker, the brain, the stoic, composed character… seeing his longtime crush for the first time in three years.
“It’s good to see you!” Hinata beams up at him.
It is, indeed , Kei thinks. Outwardly he simply grunts, earning a short, familiar laugh from Hinata.
There is a loud thud behind Kei as Firefly knocks over the umbrella holder in its excitement to reunite with its owner, and Hinata crouches down to greet the dog in a hug.
“Hello there, girl,” he says, rubbing the dog. “Heard from Natsu you went on an adventure on your own, heh? Tell me, how did you end up here of all places?”
“I have no idea,” Kei supplies, feeling awkward talking down to the crouching Hinata, but awkward in general to squat down. “I took a nap on the veranda,” by accident , he does not add, “and when I’ve come to, she was in our kitchen.”
“I hope she didn’t do any mess?” Hinata glances up.
“No, she was a good girl,” Kei says. Silence falls between them as Hinata keeps patting and rubbing the dog and Kei catches himself clearing his throat. “So… um. Her name?”
“Firefly,” Hinata stands.
“I was surprised,” Kei continues, ignoring the violent burn of his ears. “When I searched her collar for contact info and I saw the kanji…”
“It’s a difficult one,” Hinata says. He turns, observing the thick dark clouds above their heads. “I remember it took me a while to learn it.”
“You also misread it on my application form,” Kei adds.
“I did,” Hinata gives him a sideways glance. Kei could swear he sees a smirk in the corner of his lips. “I didn’t like it much, giving me all that trouble,” Hinata continues, and as he turns back to face Kei, the smirk turns into a warm smile. “Now it reminds me a lot of fond memories.”
“Why?” Kei asks.
“Her fur reminded me of your hair,” Hinata states, delivering a fatal blow to Kei. He is about to close the door in Hinata’s face along with his adorable, light furred dog, when with a loud rumble, the downpour starts.
“This might take a while to process,” Kei motions between him and the dog, “and I’m super tired, but not heartless enough to let you stand out there for long,” he steps out of the way to free the entrance. “Care to come in? I have… some coffee left, and oolong tea? I think? I’m not entirely sure I don’t live here anymore. My parents are away for the weekend so I’m home watering their plants and stuff,” he explains, “but I had five exams in the last six days so I can’t guarantee quality company.”
Hinata flashes a wicked grin at him in reply. “Oh come on,” he starts, “You say that as if you were usually quality company.”
“No,” Kei shakes his head. “Too tired for jibes.”
“So sad,” Hinata puckers his lips, leading Firefly towards the back garden. “The girl and I’ll be chilling around the veranda, wait out the rain,” he says, “feel free to take a nap while we’re here.”
As if he could, with Hinata around.
Kei huffs, waving his hands to reject the offer.
“I can provide you with a pillow,” Hinata offers, raising his brows, gauging Kei’s interest.
It does not make sense, not to an exhausted Kei, until Hinata taps his thighs ever so slightly.
“No,” Kei shakes his head violently. “No way.”
“Oh come on, don’t be shy now,” Hinata laughs, “in third year you used to take naps on my lap all the time!”
“It happened once!” Kei fights back, face bright red.
“Yeah,” Hinata replies in a low tone, fond smile on his face. “I know.”
“Say,” Kei sighs, “are you hitting on me?”
“Actually? I thought I was coming on too strong, but you really are tired beyond belief.”
“You know I’m in love with you, so what’s the use anyway?” Kei asks.
“Oh,” Hinata replies.
Apparently, he might have not known.
Hinata reaches out for Kei’s hand and pulling him out to the veranda. The downpour has mellowed to gentle rain, so it does not reach the veranda under the roof, but the tiles are wet nonetheless. Hinata crouches down, rubs behind his dog’s ears.
“It’s too wet for you to play here,” he says. “Can we stay in the kitchen?” he glances up.
Kei watches the whole scene play out as if he was not even there – as if the Kei who nods now in reply was an entirely different entity from him.
He trails after Hinata and the dog into the kitchen, where Firefly lies down in front of the window and watches as Hinata leans against one of the counters, watching him.
“Me too,” Hinata says then, and he touches Kei’s face gently like sunlight. “You know I always wanted to confess, but the timing was never right, and suddenly we were at the airport and Yacchan ran out of tissues and you left for the convenience store and it was the last call for my flight.”
“Confessing right before you leave for several years is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Kei murmurs. Somehow their faces inched closer without Kei noticing. Somehow he needs to find support on the countertop, leaning deep into Hinata’s space. Somehow Hinata’s lips are plumper than he imagined them.
“You’re absolutely right,” Hinata replies. Kei feels his breath on his skin, his touch on his face, his shoulder.
He hears his voice chattering away, much as a lullaby.
“Alright,” Hinata says then, smacking him in the shoulder. “To the couch. You need some sleep. Now. I want to be the pillow, too. No resistance.”
Kei feels numb, following Hinata’s orders for what’s probably the first time in their entire life.
University takes too much out of him , he muses before dozing off, fuming low-key at how sturdy and muscular Hinata’s thighs feel under his cheek.
By the time he wakes up, the rain has long passed and the sun hangs low on the horizon.
“I gotta go,” Hinata greets him, brushing his hair out of his face. “But I’ll be in Miyagi for a few days, so… you know how to reach me once you’re fully rested.”
Kei’s stomach knots painfully at that, thinking about all the future prospects of this, and he realizes: the rain might be over, but the storm is yet to come.