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To his immense chagrin, when Tsukishima notices Hinata - Kenma and Kageyama in tow - walking towards him from the other end of the corridor, it’s already too late to try and avoid him. (Not that he could walk away, anyway; Yamaguchi still hasn’t come back from the bathroom.) He accepts his fate and sinks down on the nearest plastic chair with a tired sigh.
Kenma quickly plops down next to him without a word.
“Tsukishima!” Hinata beams, a sickly sweet smile already telling Tsukishima something is up. “So, I was wondering -”
“No.”
Hinata’s expression falls at once. “But I didn’t even ask -”
“Nope.”
Kageyama crosses his arms to his chest, unimpressed. “I told you it was a waste of time.”
Hinata looks like he doesn’t know whether to be more upset by Tsukishima’s blatant refusal or by Kageyama’s complete lack of collaboration. “But we had to try! I promised Yachi I would find people for the kissing booth by tonight!”
“A kissing booth?” That catches Tsukishima's attention, the opportunity to tease Hinata irresistible. “Promoting mononucleosis on campus?”
The smaller flares up immediately, waving an angered finger in his general direction. “Don’t be a jerk. It’s for charity, you know!” Tsukishima doesn’t ask and doesn’t care, but Hinata still proceeds to elaborate. “The student union is holding a fundraising event next week. Suga-san asked me and Yachi to come up with something for the Sociology Department,” Hinata’s voice betrays pure desperation as he points at the blank papers in his hands. “This is the best idea we could think of, but we don’t have enough volunteers!”
Tsukishima doesn’t spare him another glance. “Probably because it’s a shit idea.”
Kageyama’s face scrunches up in thought, which is not a common fit for him. He looks mildly constipated. “Have you asked Kiyoko-san?” He comes up with after visibly squeezing out the last of his not volleyball-related brain cells.
Hinata just sighs, shoulders sagging. “She’s busy with Asahi-san’s booth.”
Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “Why can’t Kageyama do it?”
The orange-haired boy looks almost outraged by the proposition. “Like anyone would ever pay to kiss him!”
“Oi, you want a fight or something?”
Fairly amused by the little squabble, Tsukishima chimes in again. “How about Oikawa-san? He’s pretty popular.”
Hinata seems to consider the proposition for a moment before shuddering dramatically. “So Iwaizumi-san can bury me alive? No, thanks.”
Kenma must find the thought hilarious because he lets out the smallest of chuckles. Three pairs of eyes turn to him at once. For a second, he looks terrified - Tsukishima can’t blame him - as he grasps what they’re hinting at. “Absolutely not. I’d rather die, thank you very much.”
Before Hinata has the time to get discouraged, his face is already buzzing with pure glee as he catches sight of the newcomer approaching them. Tsukishima’s gut feeling warns him that something is about to go terribly, horribly wrong, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent the chain of events unraveling in front of him.
“Yamaguchi!” Hinata is up in Yamaguchi’s space in mere seconds, unceremoniously shoving the sign-up papers up to his face. His eyes shine with something akin to adoration. “Will you do me a big favor?”
⋆
Tsukishima admits he isn’t exactly tuned in with his emotions, but there’s a number of things he is sure of. Among these things, standing front and center, lies his crush on Yamaguchi.
He hasn’t always known. Then came high school, and with it came hormones and closure and walking home together every day. One particular evening, Tsukishima dropped his ice cream on his shoes and Yamaguchi laughed a little too hard and Tsukishima’s heart did a backflip and bounced all over his ribs and just like that, he knew.
It hadn’t come as a shock. If he had to describe it, it was more like the last piece of a puzzle, or the missing crayon in your set of colored pencils that you thought you’d lost but was just forgotten under your bed. A crush on Yamaguchi was nothing but part of the bigger picture of Tsukishima’s life; one moment he couldn’t see it, the next it was right there, but it had always belonged with and within his mere existence, waiting at the edges of his vision for him to discover it.
Even now, as they sit side by side on the bus riding home, it’s a calming, comforting feeling to know that he could lean a bit on his best friend’s shoulder and have his insides squirm in quiet, secret joy. Yamaguchi’s thigh brushes lightly against his as he stretches his arm to show him something on his phone.
After all, it is only logical. No one knows him inside out like Yamaguchi does, and Tsukishima wouldn’t want anyone but him to see him like he does. He can’t think of anything more natural than loving Yamaguchi.
Then there are things he isn’t so sure of, like the tight sensation in his chest leaving him breathless at the thought of Yamaguchi kissing someone else.
He tries to tell himself that it’s stupid, downright irrational to be angered by what he has no control over. The facts are all there, laid out in front of him, for him to accept: he is nothing more and nothing less than his best friend, and he isn’t in any position to dictate what he does or who he kisses.
Yamaguchi’s fingers brush just slightly against his pinky and Tsukishima tries his best to dissimulate the sharp intake of breath that leaves his lips.
It’s not logical, nor natural. Jealousy is unreasonable and bothersome and counter-productive.
All he has to do is suck it up.
⋆
Yamaguchi plops down on a cushion between Yachi and Tsukishima, fruit punch at hand. Nishinoya immediately grins at him from across the table. "Hey, it's the Powerpuff Girls!"
"Will you let that go already?" Tsukki grumbles immediately, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila to refill his own shot glass.
Yamaguchi elbows him lightly in the side, a smile reaching his face before he can stop it. "Oh, shut up, Buttercup!"
The nickname dates back to October. After days of passionate begging, whining, and bribing via the opportune amount of strawberry ice cream, Yamaguchi and Yachi had coerced Tsukishima into going as the Powerpuff Girls for Oikawa's Halloween party.
Tsukki wasn’t troubled by the green skirt and black stockings, but it took a while to convince him to try out some black eyeliner. Blonde pigtails and turquoise dress, Yachi looked just perfect as Bubbles. Tadashi's hair had grown enough to allow him to collect them into a ponytail with the most obnoxious ribbon he could find; coupled with the right - scandalous - amount of pink blusher and red eyeshadow, it made for a decent Blossom look. (Yamaguchi distinctly remembers Tsukki muttering something suspiciously similar to 'pretty'. For the sake of his own sanity, he doesn’t dwell on it too much.)
It’s safe to say the costumes were a hit. Tsukki has been lamenting the death of his reputation ever since, but Tadashi is convinced he secretly cherishes the title.
His wonderings are cut off by the sound of the bottle spinning in the middle of the table, signaling the start of whatever drinking game Oikawa has come up with this time. The empty bottle halts to a stop, pointing straight to Sugawara, who doesn’t look shaken in the slightest. Tadashi is not surprised, considering the man has no fears.
The table erupts in a series of excited roars. Right next to him, Tsukishima doesn’t move a muscle, head thrown back against the sofa behind them. He’s been acting weird since the morning. Tadashi still can’t pinpoint the cause; it’s unsettling, but he knows better than trying to force it out of him.
“The rules are easy,” Oikawa muses, shaking a little blue box between his long fingers. “You pick two pieces of paper, one from each box. The blue box contains a series of instances with a little number on the back,” he uncaps the box, revealing thirty or so little pieces of folded paper, and he lays it down on the table, right next to an identical open red box. “And the red one contains the questions. If you answer, we all drink. If you refuse to answer, you drink as many shots as the little number says.”
“But that’s not fair!” Hinata whines, a little hiccup betraying his already tipsy state. “Suga-san doesn’t have a prudish bone in his body. We’re gonna end up drinking.”
Oikawa smiles so wide it’s almost scary. “That’s the fun part, little chick.”
Sugawara’s grin mirrors Oikawa’s own as he reaches out and gracefully picks out two little papers. His elegant fingers work to unfold the first one and Tadashi can make out a little number 2 on the back of it.
“Best blowjob,” Suga announces so casually Yachi almost chokes on air. He places the paper on the table for everyone to see, and unfolds the other one.
When and where, reads the second paper, in what Tadashi assumes is Oikawa’s flashy handwriting.
Tadashi braces himself for what is coming as an air of expectancy envelopes the table, and he finds himself caught up by the same viral curiosity that prompts people to join this kind of game in the first place. All eyes are on Sugawara.
“Yesterday morning,” he beams. “Social Sciences building, second-floor bathroom.”
The group bursts into loud cheers as everyone reaches for their shot glass. Nishinoya’s whistle is insanely loud. “Suga-san never disappoints!”
“Mr. Refreshing-chan is so nasty,” Oikawa sighs dramatically, but something in his voice reveals a deep admiration.
“Don’t even think about it, Shittykawa,” murmurs Iwaizumi, elbowing him in the side with just enough strength to make him jolt.
“Wait,” Tanaka stares at Sugawara with wide eyes and a mixture of fear and respect. “You’re not gonna tell us who it was?”
“The paper only asked when and where,” Suga shrugs nonchalantly as he leans slightly on Daichi, who looks distinctly like he’s seconds away from bursting into flames, and Tadashi has to fake a coughing fit to mask the laughter threatening to jump out of his chest.
From the corner of his eye, he can make out the smallest of grins on Tsukishima’s lips.
“Okay, next!” Nishinoya spins the bottle with unnecessary enthusiasm, almost sending it flying off the wooden table. The bottle spins, and spins, and spins, and for a second Tadashi fears it’ll land on him, but it turns a little bit to his right, where Yachi freezes in place.
The girl reaches for the papers with trembling hands and Tadashi is hit by a jab of sympathetic pain.
“Longest crush,” she reads, and he can’t help but glance quickly in Kiyoko’s direction. Yachi’s voice falls to a whisper as she avoids everyone’s eyes, gaze fixed on the table. “Who and where.”
“It’s okay!” Yamaguchi shrieks in a desperate attempt at damage control. “You can always drink!” He reaches out and hurriedly turns the first paper around, revealing the little number scribbled behind it.
“Seriously, Oikawa? Three shots for this question?” Daichi complains, rather concerned about Yachi’s increasingly pale face, but the blonde reaches for her glass and downs the shots Nishinoya pours her at record speed, falling back against the sofa with a pained sigh.
Oikawa looks like he’s having the time of his life, and maybe if he wasn’t so caught up in averting a crisis, Tadashi would also find it a bit funny. “You’ve gained my respect, Hitoka-chan,” Oikawa guffaws as he reaches out to spin the bottle again.
The bottle turns. Once again, Tadashi eyes it attentively as it almost lands on him. Almost. Because this time, it shifts just the tiniest bit to the left.
Tsukki might be partial to drinking and might enjoy his fair share of teasing, but he’s never been a fan of Oikawa’s games - like most drinking games, maybe, they have this penchant for making people more on the reserved side uncomfortable. Yamaguchi finds himself biting his lip as he observes Tsukishima’s careful movements, trying his best to gulp down his concern.
The blonde lays the little papers in front of him without a word.
“First kiss,” Iwaizumi spells out for everyone. “Who and when.”
Tsukki sits in complete silence. Tadashi struggles to breathe, and he doesn’t know if the other’s lack of a reaction should comfort him or send him into a reasonable fit of panic.
“It’s okay, Four-Eyes-chan, you can drink,” Oikawa leans in to fill up Tsukki’s shot glass, but his smile crooks dangerously, a challenge written all over his face.
“It’s only one shot,” Tanaka announces after spying the little number behind the paper.
Noya sighs disappointedly as he pushes the glass towards Tsukki. “But I was so curious!”
Tadashi notices the almost indiscernible stiffness to his shoulders, and he’s about to reach for the other’s arm when Tsukishima looks straight into Oikawa’s eyes as he speaks evenly.
“Yamaguchi, second year of high school.”
Silence falls onto the group at once, or maybe the sudden buzzing in Yamaguchi’s years is just drowning out the voices.
That day, the rain had surprised them as they walked home from practice, forcing them to run all the way to Tadashi’s doorstep. Tsukishima had clenched his hand around his wrist and sprinted. He had wanted to say that there was no need for Tsukki to drop him off, but he made the smarter choice to save his breath for the merciless race until they crashed, panting, on the stony steps in front of his roofed doorway, the both of them drenched from head to toe.
They had been sitting there catching their breath for what could’ve been entire minutes when Tadashi finally noticed that Tsukki’s fingers had never left his arm. Tadashi’s other hand rose to push a strand of wet hair off his face, and he realized with a shaky breath that Tsukki’s eyes were also trailed on his pale wrist, thumb brushing against the inside of his arm with the daintiness of a feather.
Tadashi visibly shivered as Tsukki’s eyes rose to meet his own, and he barely had the time to admire how focused they were before their noses brushed against each other, and Tadashi’s breath caught in his throat for the thousandth time in the past few minutes as his eyelids fluttered closed.
“Can I?” Tsukishima’s voice whispered frailly. “Just once,” he murmured again, so low that the rain would have drowned it out if only their faces hadn’t been so impossibly close.
Tadashi could barely hear his own strangled yes before a large hand came to caress his cheek and firm lips came to rest against his own for a long, maddening instant. The touch was light and exhilarating, and then it was gone.
Just as fast, Tsukki’s fingers left his wrist, the boy disappeared into the rain and all that was left was his voice, still ringing in Tadashi’s ears. Just once.
Tsukishima had kissed him like it was the last time. They’d never mentioned it again.
Motionless, Tadashi watches as Tsukishima refuses to meet his eyes and gets up from the floor with practiced naturalness. “This game is stupid.”
He heads for the bathroom without sparing the table a second glance.
⋆
Two days before the fundraising event, Yamaguchi gets roped into helping set up the booth by a very enthusiastic Yachi. He guesses he can’t complain; he did volunteer for the stand, after all. Right next to him, Kuroo Tetsurou is hands deep in a bucket of bright red paint, occupied with dying a big white banner. Tadashi is scanning the room in search of a can of orange for his own poster when he notices a familiar figure approaching their table.
“Akaashi-san!” His lips automatically curve into a smile. “You’re the last person I expected to see here. You volunteered for the booth?” he asks, handing the newcomer a clean brush.
The other grins back. “I didn’t. Bokuto-san did, but he forgot that he already volunteered for the Miyas’ stand, so he begged me to cover half of his turn,” Akaashi rolls his eyes to the sky, but the little smile doesn’t leave his lips. “He even made a PowerPoint presentation, except it was only three slides long and all it said was ‘The people want Akaashi!’ in huge rainbow letters.”
“I’m more surprised that you’re here, Yamaguchi,” Kuroo intervenes as he reaches for a tube of green paint. “Isn’t Tsukishima bothered by this?”
Tadashi, who has succeeded in locating the color he needs, fumbles with the lid of the small container. “What do you mean?”
“Like, is he okay with you kissing other people?”
That causes him to stop in his tracks. “Why would he care about who I kiss?”
Kuroo also interrupts what he’s doing, finally turning to look at him. “Aren’t you two…” Eyebrows raised in a cryptic expression, he waves his brush in his general direction. “You know, dating?”
The world slows to a halt, the mere suggestion causing him to risk dropping his own dripping brush all over the floor. What?
“No?” he spits out after an awkward pause.
“Oh.” Kuroo’s confusion is so obvious it somehow makes everything worse. “Are you sure?”
Tadashi can feel his face gradually getting redder, the overpowering sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. “Where did you even get that from?”
“Well, I don’t know. You’re like, always together? You’re the only person on his Instagram page aside from himself and his brother!” Kuroo’s scowl grows deeper. “He uploaded a picture of you two holding hands yesterday!”
“That’s ‘cause I asked to hold hands! It’s comforting!” Tadashi isn’t sure why he’s getting so defensive in the first place, but he can’t help the aggravating blush now reaching his neck.
“Yeah, and he agreed to it and posted it on his Instagram,” retorts the other, barely containing his amusement at Tadashi’s distress.
“C’mon, Kuroo-san, leave the boy alone,” Akaashi scolds half-heartedly, the look in his eyes betraying an entertained glint of his own.
They resume their work in silence, but Yamaguchi’s heart doesn’t slow down for a long time.
⋆
On Thursday night, Tsukishima is sitting on his bed, back to the wall. A movie is playing on the laptop in front of him, but he hasn't been paying too much attention, because Yamaguchi is curled up against him, head leaning on his shoulder, and the light from the screen illuminates his features just enough for Tsukishima to peep and make out the field of freckles on his cheeks.
One could say Tsukishima is staring.
Dark, thick eyelashes caress Tadashi’s round jowls as he blinks distractedly. Small lips are curved into a natural pout and he distantly wonders if they’re still as soft as the last time he had the chance to touch them, that day in his second year of high school when he’d kissed his first and only love. A lot has changed since then; Tadashi’s long hair is now held back by a low ponytail and Tsukishima's fingers have gone through it a thousand times in his dreams. Shorter strands still fall on his face, partially covering his ears. In the lack of better words, Tsukishima would describe him as stunning. Breathtaking, his brain supplies. Gorgeous, he comes up with a second later.
That's when Yamaguchi's voice cuts abruptly through his thoughts.
"Will you come see me at the booth tomorrow?"
Tsukishima's mind, which had been so busy searching a vast array of synonyms just a moment ago, chooses to grind to a halt.
The logical, commonsensical part of him understands the question. He can tell this engagement with the booth has been on Yamaguchi’s mind for some time, and he's expected to offer some sort of support by showing up like any best friend deserving of its name is supposed to do. A tiny corner of his mind, however, wishes he could interpret the words another way.
Will you come kiss me, too?
“Sure,” he eventually breathes out, tone as even as possible as he forces his eyes to fall back on the computer screen.
They sink back into silence, but it’s not the comfortable quiet he’s used to. He can tell something is troubling Yamaguchi by the way he straightens his shoulders, then sags down again, like he’s getting ready to say something but he still isn’t sure where to begin. He waits.
When he speaks, his voice is imbued with so much practiced casualness Tsukishima knows he must be faking it. “Kuroo-san said something funny yesterday.”
Tsukishima snorts quietly, gaze still fixed on the movie neither of them is following anymore. “That’s astounding, considering he might just be the least funny person in the country.”
Yamaguchi finally turns to look at him. He exhales sharply. “He thought we were dating.”
That is - certainly not what he was expecting. “We? As in, you and me?” He very smartly spits out. He is going to strangle Kuroo with his bare hands.
“Yeah.” Yamaguchi’s hands fiddle at his sides. He’s not looking at him anymore. “Ridiculous. Right?”
Something tugs at the seams of his ribs. He wonders for how long he can possibly hold his breath, convinced that if he refuses to exhale, time will slow to a stop and concede him just enough to find the words he so desperately needs.
The words come slowly.
Some of them are quiet, so easy they almost leave his mouth. Is it really so ridiculous?
Others are big words, scary ones. I love you. Is that ridiculous, too?
Words that will change things, that will send him down a path he cannot possibly calculate. A risky path.
And because he’s a coward, he eventually exhales. “Ridiculous. Yeah.”
⋆
Tsukishima lays horizontally, long legs sticking out the end of the sofa as he stares at the stark white ceiling.
Akiteru sits on Yachi’s brand new reclinable chair, the sound of his fingers skimming through some unfamiliar comic book working as a background to Tsukishima’s thoughts. He isn’t sure when exactly Akiteru arrived - he’d already been there when Tsukishima entered the living room about twenty minutes ago. (When he first moved in with Yamaguchi and Yachi, his brother insisted on needing a spare key, claiming that Tsukishima would refuse to let him in otherwise.)
Akiteru looks confident enough that he isn’t imposing, given that the house is obviously empty except for the two of them.
It’s Friday - D-Day. His roommates - and best friends - headed for the campus a couple of hours ago, claiming they had to finish setting things up for the event, leaving Tsukishima alone with his relentless thoughts and a likewise relentless sun gliding down the sky a bit too quickly for his liking.
“Something’s bothering you,” Akiteru starts. “And don’t try to deny it, it’s written all over your totally unbothered face.”
He turns towards his brother and finds that Akiteru’s eyes have left the comic to lay on him instead. It’s a tactic his brother has been using lately; fully knowing Tsukishima won’t come to him of his own will, he comes to him instead, and he doesn’t ask, but he just points out: something is wrong. Tsukishima doesn’t need him to point it out, of course, - he is very much aware of his own problems - but Akiteru’s words hide a different intent. I know something’s up. Sure, he could just ignore it. It’s not a question and he’s not demanded to reply. It’s an offer, a yes-or-no transaction, a mere possibility for him to consider. And Tsukishima likes to consider his offers from all angles.
Tsukishima studies his options for a few seconds. He is not exactly comfortable with sharing his feelings with his brother, but he guesses it wouldn’t hurt for once. Just this once. Besides, it’s not like staring at the ceiling is doing him any good.
“I don’t want Yamaguchi to do the kissing booth.” The words come out a bit strangled as he forces them out of his uncooperative throat. Akiteru either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it.
“Then ask him not to.”
If it was that easy, his insides would’ve been spared a lot of churning and turning. His face naturally morphs into a scowl, but he tries to gulp down his skepticism, for Akiteru’s sake.
“I can’t,” he scoffs, the knot in his throat growing considerably tighter. “It’s not like I’m his boyfriend or anything.”
Akiteru’s lips curve up almost imperceptibly, and Tsukishima stares until his brother’s cryptic gaze falls back on the cover of the comic book in his hands.
“That’s the point, Kei,” he murmurs at last, fingers hunting for the page where he left off. “Maybe you should be.”
⋆
When Tsukishima spots him backstage, Yamaguchi looks as pretty as ever in a coral red sweater that’s slightly oversized on him. Too-long sleeves cover his hands, but Tsukishima can tell that he’s fidgeting, nerves likely getting to him mere minutes before the booth starts.
“Tsukki?”
There’s a queue already waiting outside, Tsukishima saw it when he first arrived, and some generic pop song is playing from the nearest stereo on stage, but it’s not loud enough to disrupt their conversation, so he speaks out clearly.
“Let me do it at your place.”
Yamaguchi stares at him, evidently taken aback. “What?”
The thing is, Tsukishima is good at not wanting things he can’t have.
“I’ll do the kissing booth at your place.”
He’s a little too good at it, maybe, because he’s long since accepted that Tadashi Yamaguchi will never be his, so he ended up convincing himself that he’s okay with it a tad bit too easily.
“What? Why?”
“It bothers me.” He has made calculations, many of them, torturing himself with chances and possibilities, and they all, inevitably, lead up to this moment: his childhood best friend is about to reject him in the backstage of a kissing booth, and he’s about to take it and move on. “The thought of you kissing someone else.”
“Let me get this straight,” A thousand different emotions travel through Yamaguchi’s features at lightning speed. “You don’t want me to kiss people, and your solution is offering to kiss them instead?”
Tsukishima distantly gets the feeling that he might have fucked up.
“What else do you want me to do?”
Yamaguchi’s eyes are comically wide and the sleeves slide off his hands as he clenches them into frustrated fists. “Just kiss me before they do, you idiot!”
Tsukishima has always thought Yamaguchi is at his prettiest when he’s looking at him.
The thing is, he’s aware he is a full-blown jerk, but he’s not as heartless as Hinata claims he is. He does have feelings - they’re just distant, always a little bit just out of reach, like careful meteorites passing by Earth, close enough to be perceived but far enough not to hit him with full strength. It’s a relic of older times, when he was young and fragile and fearful of disappointment; a stone wall raised to shelter him, built so meticulously that it ended up caging him inside.
But whenever Yamaguchi’s eyes are on him, that’s when it lands, all at once, a comet aiming for his chest, and there is no misunderstanding the feeling in his gut yearning to reach out and no wall holding his helpless heart in place.
His calculations might have failed, he realizes faintly as he takes Yamaguchi’s face in his hands and finally slots their lips together, but it doesn’t bother him that much.
It’s nothing like their first kiss. Sure, his heart is still hammering against his chest and his cheeks are still burning as feverishly as that rainy day, but Yamaguchi’s mouth meets him back this time, and there’s no trace of shyness as their lips crash against each other again and again and Yamaguchi’s arms wrap around his neck, dragging him down to match his height.
Tsukishima forgets to breathe, but he frankly doesn’t care, and his hands fall to grab the shorter’s waist and sink into the fabrics of his sweater. His lips part against his better will and Yamaguchi grabs his lower lip, the pull of his teeth coating a soft whimper out of him he isn’t nearly capable of holding back. His head starts to feel dizzy, thoughts mushed up into a pulp, and pulling back is all Tsukishima can do to prevent himself from losing awareness of his bearings.
“Looks like I got my kiss already,” he coughs out awkwardly as he stares into bright eyes, and his voice breaks mid-sentence. “Does this booth of yours give free samples?”
Yamaguchi beams against his lips. “Shut up, Buttercup.”
⋆
(“Wait. It worked?” Kageyama stares at Tsukishima’s hunched figure, looking slightly sick.
Hinata smiles victoriously. “I told you it would work!”
“Oi, Koutarou!” Kuroo’s lips curve into a wide grin as he turns towards Bokuto, who’s busy talking to Akaashi a few steps back. “You owe me 2000 yen.”
“Hell no, Tsukki kissed him first?” The owl whines immediately, raising his eyes to take in the scene.
“What even?” Yachi stares at the two of them, scowling. “Did you bet on them?”
Kuroo winks wickedly. “Please, don’t tell Tsukki. He’s gonna eat me alive.”
Yachi simply sighs as she nudges Hinata towards the red curtains. “You all are terrible people.”)