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Tsukishima Kei, a middle blocker whose height exceeds 188 centimeters, a diligent student who traces over every answer meticulously, is but a jealous kid with a crush.
Ever since he was a child, he learns. He learns about the duties of a son, the countries formed by wars mentioned in his textbooks, Akiteru’s favorite girl group—which was not supposed to happen, he tells him—and more importantly, himself. He learns his fond attachments to certain but few things essentially label his deeper love of things, which he promptly experiences during Akiteru’s shameful bout with volleyball. He tells himself, learn to love what truly matters, and love who really matters.
Tsukishima doesn’t need a cliche love film to tell him he’s in love with Yamaguchi. It was inevitable. The slight irritation that developed because of the girls that hovered around Yamaguchi’s shoulders blossomed into pain that came with the light touches his teammates gave him whenever he scored points. Instead of rejecting it, forsaking it at its base, he accepted it and let it consume his world like it was meant to.
Jealousy was a side effect of unrequited love he thought he’d have under control. The extra touches, words, and displays of affection are all he can do to hold back his deep love. Even then, he must still have restraint, because the greater the input, the greater the output. At least, according to his function.
He starts small, with numbers less than three, trying to control the output.
A pair of arms snake around Yamaguchi’s neck, reveling in the familiar scent of strawberries. The method doesn’t go unnoticed, but the reaction isn’t strong. A perfect remedy for his aching will.
Yamaguchi hardly bats an eyelid at the action, more focused on the work in front of him. His pencil impatiently taps on the desk, a sign that he’s stumped. “Tsukki, do you know the answer for this one?” Tsukishima follows his pointer finger as he hovers over a certain problem.
“Ah. 35.” His breath comes out in steady streams, and he can feel the way Yamaguchi flinches after each one.
“Thanks, Tsukki!” He immediately scribbles down the answer and beams. “Just a few more, and I’ll be done.”
“Cool,” Tsukishima calmly replies. He decides that’s enough physical contact for today as he lets go of his hold and heads back to his bed. Before he slips his headphones on, he glances over at the boy sitting at the desk and does not let the memory of red ears slip from him. Every song he plays from then on somehow reminds him of the boy.
Tsukishima doesn’t remember how long he’s been stuck in his thoughts. All he can perceive in that moment is Yamaguchi hovering over his face, so fatally close. He barely registers the boy calling out to him, telling him dinner is ready.
‘I’ll be there in a second,’ he makes the excuse to him like he does his mother. Yamaguchi flies on ahead of him, hopping over every other step as he stumbles to the bottom of the stairs. Normally, Tsukishima would scold him for causing the creaking in the floorboards, but he can barely open his mouth today.
Tsukishima stumbles out of his bed—long legs and all—and heads to the bathroom to wash up. He’s a man of his word. The cold water trickles between his fingers, but it’s not enough to quench the heat in his face. Tsukishima’s not sure how long he'll last and splashes another wave of cold water across his face.
Tsukishima learns that such a small input may not be enough for him. The consequence of it is embarrassing.
Hinata’s making a face at him that’s accusing and a little hurt. Tsukishima doesn’t explain himself—not that he ever does—but he’ll quietly admit that he was a bit harsh with Hinata. All he remembers is Hinata clinging to Yamaguchi excitedly, and his emotions went downhill from there.
“I’m sorry,” he weakly apologizes to Hinata. “I will try my best to not act like the King again,” he recovers quickly, and Kageyama makes a scrutinizing face in his direction. Practice continues on like normal, and Hinata still fumbles, who is scolded later by the King himself.
Tsukishima experiments, increasing the input by just a little. After practice ends, he dramatically falls against Yamaguchi’s shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”
Yamaguchi flinches, whether it be from the sweat or skin contact, he doesn’t know. “Are you okay today? You seemed off.” The towel that rested around his neck duly wipes away stray bits of sweat clinging to Tsukishima’s forehead. Fire trails in the spots where sweat was wiped away, and it stings.
“Actually, I think I might die.” His head buries further against Yamaguchi’s shoulder, ignoring the rough fabric of his uniform.
“Tsukki, you can’t die!” His voice sounds a little finicky. “I won’t let you.”
Tsukishima thinks they sound similar to little kids. The thought makes him laugh, loud enough for only Yamaguchi to hear. He briefly removes himself from Yamaguchi’s shoulder, leaning over to collect a stray volleyball.
“Okay. If you say it like that, I won’t.” He turns away, trying not to think about if Yamaguchi’s glancing his way or not.
“Tsukishima, let me see that volleyball!” Hinata clambers over to the two. Tsukishima lets his thoughts drift away as the sun wages war with the moon.
“Is something on my face?” Yamaguchi asks one day, when they’re walking home from school. It’s not the first time he’s been caught staring so blatantly.
“Yeah,” Tsukishima runs a finger across the boy’s face. “Eyes,” his finger traces across the crease of his eyelid, “a nose,” he pokes at the soft piece of flesh, “and a very loud mouth,” he pauses over his lips, tapping them slightly. Quite a smooth recovery, if he asked himself.
Yamaguchi giggles under his touch and doesn’t say another word. Tsukishima glances once more at the constellations that dip and collide across his cheeks. He wonders if he’d ever get a chance to explore them in full.
Galaxies that collide and expand in the span of millions of years. Tsukishima had recently studied such a phenomenon. The idea is too large for the mind to easily comprehend—it’s hard to fathom how pockets of space interact and move as their own separate bodies in a limitless universe.
Tsukishima understands through his studies that galaxies will never interact unless they gravitate towards each other. Otherwise, they will be forever apart in the sea of space. Galaxies that are drawn together must eventually interact and collide. Tsukishima himself is his own galaxy. If he is a sailor in this celestial sea, his ship must be nearing to collide with Yamaguchi's. If they do collide, will they explode in an ungodly manner? Or will they briefly bump shoulders and simply say goodbye, never to meet again?
At least, if they’re meant to collide, he’ll be ready to shatter to pieces. If one of them breaks, the universe might be able to repair them, even if it means they will never meet again.
Akiteru visits home often, and enjoys checking in on his little brother. “Is there anyone who interests you?” He doesn’t remember how they got on the topic of love interests. He looks up at his brother with an unreadable expression, wondering if his brother is expecting a girl’s name, but decides to keep anonymity.
Tsukishima's expression hardly falters—his brows do draw up but briefly relax—as his mind clicks on the idea of Yamaguchi, whose eyes are the globe of curiosity and wonder. “Maybe,” he answers after a brief moment of thought. Akiteru pats him on the back, wearing the cheesiest grin, insisting that he continue.
Tsukishima restrains himself from overwhelming his brother with details about Yamaguchi. He takes the safe route, grinning to himself as he says, “They’re pretty cool. I want to be around them for as long as they let me.” That is all he agrees to let on, and Akiteru doesn't press any further.
Tsukishima Kei (16) discovers groundbreaking information that is essential for every single inhabitant of earth to know.
With their current heights, it’s almost like a puzzle that’s been perfectly solved. Yamaguchi’s head perfectly tucks under Tsukishima’s chin at this angle, like the dots have been connected—no dots have actually been connected—and it feels like heaven.
Hollywood would never cast Tsukishima for a role, not with his lousy acting. But he manages to convince Yamaguchi. In a thick layered coat, he executes the ploy of stumbling right into Yamaguchi’s embrace, claiming the fabric is restricting and stifling. Yamaguchi’s quick reflexes save the both of them, but now the boy is wrapped wholly in arms of 100% nylon fabric.
“Tsukki, did you trip?! Are you okay?” He pushes his weight against Tsukishima’s, trying to prevent the both of them from toppling over. His arms tightly wrap against Tsukishima’s waist, and their embrace is so warm.
“I think my ankle is cracked,” Tsukishima deadpans.
Yamaguchi makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a laugh. “You’re so dramatic. I think you’re just fine.”
Tsukishima’s poor acting can only carry him so far. “No, no, I’m actually seriously,” he furthers the act by pushing his weight against the boy. “I think I might fall over.” Tsukishima can feel Yamaguchi’s hold on him tighten, he might stop breathing.
“Seriously?!” Yamaguchi whines against the folds of his coat. Nylon rubs against thick cotton in a wrestling battle, and Yamaguchi makes an unruly noise of effort as he struggles to push Tsukishima back to a standing position. Eventually, Tsukishima stands at twelve o clock, and Yamaguchi heaves a sigh of relief.
“There we go,” he pants as he admires his handiwork. “I’m pretty strong, right?”
Nylon shrugs. “You’re not bad.” Yamaguchi’s eyes pinch into a smile at those words, and Tsukishima feels his galaxy slowly crumbling. His silent prayer to the universe is that he may have more time with Yamaguchi before they collide and break apart.
The universe surely hates him, Tsukishima realizes.
It starts when Yamaguchi’s eyes seem to fade in color, like all the stars are missing. Eventually, he starts shying away from Tsukishima’s shy touches, laughing awkwardly like it was reflex. Tsukishima is sure their collision is impending.
In desperation, he reaches out to him. Tsukishima calls him out to their special spot in the woods, a place teetering with tranquility and fond memories, one that's special to both of them. When Yamaguchi arrives and calls out to him, Tsukishima reminds himself to breathe. The moon’s reflection in the pond barely casts enough light for Tsukishima to make out the boy.
“You’ve been acting strange,” Tsukishima says behind a sigh. “Did I do something wrong? Tell me.” He prays his voice doesn’t come off as desperate. There’s a look on Yamaguchi’s face that the blond wished he’d never have to see.
The stars are falling as Yamaguchi pulls at Tsukishima’s shirt, eyes threatening to well with tears. “Tsukki, I need to tell you this. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Was galaxy collision this terrifying? He should’ve taken a preemptive course.
“What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong,” he tries to make his voice as calm and collected as can be as he presses forward. If his galaxy is colliding, he will make sure it does not burn so easily.
Yamaguchi’s sleeve rubs against his eyes, collecting the fallen stars. “It’s just been hard for me lately. Being around you is hard, too.”
His stars are dying out. “What can I do to help? Yamaguchi, I like being your friend. I don’t want to end things like this.” His planet’s control tower is going haywire, but he ignores the warning signals for now.
“I,” his sobs grow louder. “I don’t want to end this either, but I can’t do this if we’re just going to be friends forever.” He’s hiding his face in embarrassment now. Tsukishima’s galaxy might be deconstructing at this very moment.
“Elaborate,” his voice drops to an octave in uncharted territory. “Please, tell me what you mean.” His hands are tightly gripping the boy’s shoulders, feeling every shake and tremble, which may be his own.
“How dense are you,” the stars are suspended now, “I like you, you big idiot. I like you so much that it hurts.” Tsukishima’s mind completely skipped the thought of galaxies that merge.
Tsukishima nearly laughs aloud at himself. “Look at me, Yamaguchi.” He wordlessly wipes away stray tears. “You are important to me. Have I ever told you that?” Yamaguchi stares at him through teary eyes. “You are the only person who can make me feel like this,” his face is burning up as he lets Yamaguchi hold a hand over his heart which is beating so loud and pathetically. “Being by your side has always made me happy.”
“Is this your answer?” Yamaguchi laughs groggily. “You’re awful, making me suffer like this.”
“I’m sorry,” Tsukishima says softly. “Please, let me make up for all of it.”
Yamaguchi smiles up at him. Even in the dim light, he can see the formation of new stars in his eyes. "I'll hold you to it." Yamaguchi runs into his arms, and Tsukishima holds him in another embrace, no fabricated excuse needed. With Yamaguchi in his arms, it feels like home, his special planet in the expanse of space. Under the blanket of stars, Tsukishima gratefully thanks the universe for his special galaxy, promising to treasure it eternally.