Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I need you to date me.”

“The fuck? ”

“You heard me.”

***

Note: Takashi is an OC

“Is this some sort of joke?”

Yahaba has no idea how this happened. When he woke up this morning, the last thing he thought he’d be doing is standing in a dark hallway with his back pressed to the wall, blood rushing in his ears as one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met glares at him with murderous intent.

Yahaba musters up every shred of courage he has. You’re taller than him. You’ve slammed him against a wall. This should be no problem. “Not a joke.”

Yahaba wishes he could laugh it off and run away, but he knows Oikawa would have his ass for that. And if Kyoutani ranks as one of the most terrifying people, Oikawa is the most terrifying person Yahaba has ever encountered. What makes it worse is that the flamboyant setter doesn’t even look the part.

“Haba-chan, if you really want that pile of alien feces to go away, you’re going to have to take things to the next level! And if you don’t, I will have to take things into my own hands.” Yahaba shudders at the memory, deciding that he would rather deal with a scary fake boyfriend than have to deal with Oikawa “taking things into his own hands”.

When Kyoutani’s glare darkens even further, Yahaba resigns himself quietly to his own death. Why did I join the volleyball team; why, oh why?  

“Explain.”

Yahaba’s eyes snap up to Kyoutani’s. “Wh-what?” He’s going to hear me out?

Kyoutani growls, and Yahaba’s words fall out of his mouth without any further thought. “It’s not real dating I just need you to pretend to—”

Yahaba hears a noise eerily similar to a snarl and before he knows it Kyoutani’s shadow is gone and Kyoutani is halfway down the hallway.

“Wait! Hear me out!”

Kyoutani just walks faster. Thankfully, Yahaba’s legs are longer. “Hey!”

Kyoutani halts abruptly and turns around, jabbing a finger at Yahaba, who flinches away just in time. “Listen here. I don’t want any part of whatever stupid games you and Oikawa are playin’.”

“How’d you know it was Oik—”

A scoff. “Isn’t it always?”

Yahaba bristles. “No, actually. This is about me . And a certain asshole who won’t leave me alone.”

At this, Kyoutani’s glare dims a little. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t run either, and Yahaba takes that as permission to continue.

“Look, it’s just—there’s this guy who won’t stop hitting on me, even though I’ve told him to stop multiple times…” Yahaba watches Kyoutani’s expression carefully. “And I, uh, actually, Oikawa, thinks that the only way to get him to go away is if I have a boyfriend.”

Kyoutani stares at Yahaba for a few seconds, causing Yahaba to fidget. “Can’t y'just report him?”

Yahaba waves his hands around. “No, no, I don’t want to do anything drastic.”

“This isn’t drastic?” Kyoutani bites out.

Yahaba sighs. “It doesn’t have to be if you would cooperate.” Shit, I didn’t mean it to come out like that--

Kyoutani’s eyes widen a little before they snap back into slits, anger scrunching up Kyoutani’s features. “No thanks.”

“Wait! Sorry, that’s not how I meant to—” Yahaba huffs out another frustrated breath. “Look, please, I’m begging you. I know you don’t like me all that much but this will be temporary.” Yahaba pauses. “Probably.”

Yahaba waits anxiously for an answer, the ridiculousness of the whole situation dawning on him as the seconds tick past. What am I DOING?

“Why me?”

Yahaba freezes. Why Kyoutani? Yahaba isn’t quite sure, to be truthful. He just knows that when Oikawa told him to fake date someone, Kyoutani’s face was the first to pop into his brain. Now that Yahaba thinks about it, why couldn’t he just ask Watari? Watari would have definitely agreed.

“Oi.”

“Uh—” Yahaba grasps for a reasonable explanation. “Oh! ‘Cause, you’re like, scary.” Yahaba you absolute MORON. “Wait! No, I mean—in a good way! In this case. Damn, I suck…”

Kyoutani leans back a little, mulling over Yahaba’s crappy explanation. “'N what do I get out of it?”

Once again, Yahaba is lost for words. “Um…I guess…experience?”

Kyoutani scoffs at that. “ ‘Don’t want your experience. ”

Yahaba scoffs back at him. “ Okay, well then you get to feel like a good person for helping out a teammate.”

Kyoutani tips his head sideways. “Hm…yeah, m' good.” With that, he turns as if to leave again, and Yahaba’s hand darts out of its own accord, latching onto Kyoutani’s arm.

“I’ll pay you 10,000 yen.” I didn’t agree to this, Yahaba’s cheapskate side argues. Why did I say that?

Too late, though, because the offer is out and in the air.

Kyoutani looks shocked for all of one second before the corner of his lips twitch up. Woah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that, Yahaba marvels. “Deal.”

“I should have known money would be the one thing to motivate you,” Yahaba spits out, words tinged with bitterness directed at himself and something else that he can’t quite pin down.

Kyoutani just shrugs.

“Well I’m not paying you unless you do a good job.”

Kyoutani raises an eyebrow. “ What’s stoppin’ you from saying I did a ‘bad job’ just to keep the money?”

Yahaba sniffs. “I would never do that. I’m still a moral person, Kentarou. ”

Kyoutani stiffens, visibly taken aback by the name.

“What? Now that we’re dating, ‘should be able to call ya that, right?” Yahaba knows he’s being a little shit, but he can’t bring himself to care. If he’s paying for this, he might as well take advantage of it.

Kyoutani opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. “Of course, Shigeru. ”

Damn, that is not fair. Yahaba scrunches up his nose, his stomach doing weird flips that Yahaba really did not want to investigate.

Kyoutani notices and almost laughs. Yahaba has the fleeting thought that he would really like to see Kyoutani laugh. “You’re the one who started it, dumbass.”

Yahaba tsks and turns away, already overwhelmed by his own mess. “I—we’ll talk about this more tomorrow. I have to go.”

“Whatever.” With that, Kyoutani is gone, with the only sign he had even been talking to Yahaba being the faint scent of something woodsy in the air. Yahaba sighs deeply, shuffling out of the corridor. Great. I even know how he smells.

***

When Yahaba wakes up the next day, his first thought is, “that was a dream, right?”. There is no way, absolutely no way, that the Kyoutani Kentarou, deity of all things rude and isolation, had agreed to be his fake boyfriend. Yahaba almost laughs aloud as he sits up. His brain sure is a piece of work.

So imagine Yahaba’s surprise when he steps into his first period classroom and sees that Kyoutani, who usually sits in the seat furthest from the teacher and closest to the door, is lounging casually in the seat next to his. Yahaba can practically feel his classmate’s burning gazes on him as he walks cautiously towards Kyoutani, slipping into his seat as quietly as he can.

Kyoutani glances up from his phone and looks at him quietly. “Shigeru.”

Yahaba jolts. “Kyo-Ken- that was real? ”

Kyoutani glares at him. “Y' mean yesterday in the hall? Yeah, jerk, that was real.” Kyoutani narrows his eyes at him. “Thought it wasn’t?”

Yahaba groans and drops his head onto the table. “I hate myself.”

Kyoutani grunts in response. Yahaba doesn’t dare lift his head to see his expression.

“Hey, Yahaba.” Yahaba’s blood runs cold and his muscles stiffen at the same voice that has been bugging him for weeks now. He stays silent, hoping the man will take the hint and leave.

But then again, when has Takashi ever taken a hint?

Yahaba hears Kyoutani shifts in the seat behind him. The chair squeaks, and Yahaba can picture Kyoutani leaning forward.

“Yahaba, come on, talk to me.”

Silence.

“Why are you being like this?”

Yahaba closes his eyes and presses his nose even closer to the cold wood of his desk.

“Come on, Shiger—” An uncontrollable shudder rolls through his back. His name sounds absolutely vile coming from him.

From his left, a deeper voice speaks up. “Don’t call him that.”

Takashi spluttered. “This isn’t any of your business, Kyoutani.”

“It is now.” Yahaba squeezes his eyes shut harder. Make him go away, Kentarou…

“Come on man, when have you even talked to Yahaba? I just want to tell him something, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t wanna hear.” Kyoutani’s voice is pitching lower, and Yahaba reaches out under the table to place his hand on Kyoutani’s knee softly. As he suspected, it had been bouncing up and down uncontrollably.

“He can speak for himself.” Takashi, leave me alone.

“Just go.” Kyoutani growls, clearly ticked off now.

“Alright listen, who the hell do you think you are? I—”

“His boyfriend.”

It’s so silent in the classroom then that Yahaba can hear his own breathing.

Kyoutani continues like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal bomb, and Yahaba is so relieved he could kiss him. “And who the fuck're you?”

“Wh- bu- what? You’re his what?” Takashi splutters. “Yahaba, is it true?”

“‘I look like I would fuckin' lie 'bout that?”

“I want to hear it from him.” Fuck you, Takashi.

Yahaba lifts his head up from the table, slowly. He doesn’t dare look at Kyoutani, and instead turns to the annoying asshole on his right. “Yeah, it’s true.” He reaches over and grabs Kyoutani’s hand. Kyoutani’s hand twitches in his own, but luckily Kyoutani has an impeccable poker face and didn’t even blink. I picked the right guy for this, holy shit.

Yahaba wonders briefly if Kyoutani has done this before, before writing it off with a mental scoff. As if, this is Kyoutani he’s talking about. He doesn’t think Kyoutani has ever looked at someone romantically, much less dated them. 

“What the fuck. ” Takashi shifts his weight from foot to foot, face twisting up. “Of course you would get a boyfriend, when you know how much I care about you--” 

Yahaba can’t help but snort loudly. “Care about me? What a joke, leave me alone.” 

Takashi glares. “Oh you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? So much better than me?” 

Okay, that one stung a little. Yahaba sneaks a glance at Kyoutani, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing Yahaba is. Kyoutani used to say that a lot. 

Kyoutani catches his eye, but Yahaba can’t see anything in those golden eyes. 

Meanwhile, Takashi hasn’t slowed down his tirade, much to Yahaba’s unending frustration. “And, of all people, him? ” 

What the hell did that mean? Yahaba whips his head to glare at him at this, a burst of protective anger flaring in his chest. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Takashi cuts himself off, surprise evident in his eyes. It’s only there for a second though. “Come on, Yahaba, you’re not seriously telling me you’re actually willingly dating this anti-social asshole?” 

Yahaba has heard quite enough. “ Shut up. He’s a better boyfriend than you could ever be. And so what if he doesn’t talk to people? Maybe he just knows that they’re all like you. ” Yahaba is full on sneering now, weeks of pent up bitterness spewing out of him. 

He completely forgets to look at Kyoutani, who has been silent until now. 

Takashi splutters some more before sneering back. “Whatever. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” 

Yahaba snorts. “Good. Someone as screwed up as you would have terrible judgement anyway.” 

Takashi reels back, scoffs, and turns on his heel to march out of the classroom. The second Takashi is out of sight, Yahaba relaxes back into his seat. 

Then, it hits him. 

Oh my God. “He’s a better boyfriend”. Why did I say that? Yahaba lets out a loud groan. You could have said “person”, but no, you had to say boyfriend. 

“So. ‘S him.” 

Yahaba risks a glance at Kyoutani, whose face is as passively angry as usual. Maybe he missed what I said. “Yeah.” 

Kyoutani looks him dead in the eye. “Doesn’t really seem like you need me.” 

Yahaba goes red. “Today was different; usually I just-- ignore him, or something…” 

The faintest shadows of confusion slip onto Kyoutani’s features, and he tilts his head slightly. “What changed?” 

Yahaba really doesn’t want to say it. “I mean, usually he just, like, bothers me. And talks shit about me.” 

Kyoutani nods. “And today?” 

Yahaba really doesn’t want to say it. “Well, I mean,” he gulps, “he was talking shit about you, so…” His voice starts to trail off at the end, but Kyoutani caught what Yahaba had said anyway. 

Yahaba doesn’t get a verbal response. Instead, he gets a cough and a surprisingly shy glance away from him. Yahaba tries to process what he’s seeing. Is he...embarrassed? One glance at Kyoutani’s pink ears answers that for him.

That is so fucking cute oh my god. 

Wait.

Kyoutani clears his throat. “Didn’t ask you to do that, dumbass.” 

Yahaba suppresses a smile at that response, which is just so Kyoutani. “Where’s the gratitude? Geez.” 

He gets a glare at that, and Yahaba leans back in his seat, feeling a little more balanced. This is normal. This, he could handle. 

***

It occurs to Yahaba somewhere between the blurry hours of 1AM to 6AM that maybe he has the tiniest crush on Kyoutani.

Chapter Text

Yahaba should have known that he would have to suffer the consequences of his lie. And he did, in a way. He just didn’t expect them to be so...ridiculous. 

Thanks to a certain third year, his new relationship is the talk of the school. Yahaba had practically sprinted to the club room for morning practice after he’d initially noticed the lingering stares from his classmates. 

But, even morning practice isn’t safe from Oikawa’s worldly presence and his ever-present fan club. 

“Did you ladies know that my precious kouhai has gotten himself a boyfriend? Yes, I know, it truly is tragic; Haba-chan was going to be a heartthrob like me— ow, Iwa-chan!”

“Shut up shittykawa; you’re being insufferable again.”

Yahaba sighs and slowly backs away from the bickering pair. Another day, another million Oikawa and Iwaizumi spats. Those two really were just like a married couple, he muses to himself. He finds himself shuffling over to Kyoutani, who glances at him. “Hey.” Yahaba greets with another sigh. 

Kyoutani grunts in greeting before turning back to the net, winding up for another serve. 

“Have you...been getting weird looks and stuff?”

Kyoutani pauses and looks over. “What do ya think?”

Yahaba raises his hands up in the air. “Alright, alright. And...you’re okay with it?”

Kyoutani snorts. “I get weird stares anyway. ‘Least these ones aren’t because folks think I broke the law.” 

What. Yahaba gapes, “People think you’ve committed crimes?”

The alleged criminal sighs, having given up on serving, and turns to Yahaba. “Ya don’t?”

Yahaba eyes him strangely. “I usually don’t go around assuming people are criminals, no.” Yahaba pauses. “Maybe it’s because of how you look.”

Kyoutani’s brows pinch together. “‘The hell is wrong with how I look?”

Yahaba rapidly backtracks. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Just, I can see how people would think you’re intimidating.” 

Apprehension rises in Yahaba’s stomach when a shadow crosses Kyoutani’s face before it smooths out into a blank expression. “Right. ‘S why you picked me for this stunt, wasn’t it?”

Yahaba had said that, yep. But as Yahaba opened his mouth to agree with him, the words refused to come out. They just felt... wrong. Yahaba settles for a shrug. 

Kyoutani raises an eyebrow at him. “Whatever.” 

For some reason, his response makes Yahaba’s insides twist up. That’s not what I want him to think. It’s not true. 

“That’s not the only reason.” Yahaba blurts mindlessly. 

Kyoutani’s raised eyebrow twitches higher. He looks expectantly at Yahaba, waiting for him to continue. 

“Uh--” Yahaba gulps. He can’t tell Kyoutani that he’s inexplicably drawn to him, now can he? 

Kyoutani seems to take Yahaba’s hesitancy the wrong way. “You’re so full of shit.” He grumbles, with no real bite behind the words.

“I’m not.” Yahaba insists. “I just can’t...tell you...right now.” 

Kyoutani snorts. “Shit.” 

“It’s not shit ,” Yahaba lets out a frustrated huff. How can Kyoutani be so infuriatingly self-deprecating? He acts as if the only reason someone would ever want to talk to him is because of his intimidating demeanor. Oh. Yahaba frowns. Is that the only reason people ever talked to him? 

“Hey, Kentarou.” 

Kyoutani flinches and coughs, sputtering a little. Yahaba forces his lips into a straight line, amused. “What.” 

“Who do you usually hang out with? Y’know, out of practice?” 

Judging by the way Kyoutani’s spine instantly stiffens, Yahaba thinks he might have hit a sore spot. “What’s it to you?” 

“I’m just-- curious. Really. I’m not trying to insinuate anything.” Yahaba’s being serious. He has no idea what Kyoutani is like outside of their Seijoh volleyball bubble, and Yahaba is desperate for more information on his elusive “boyfriend”.  

Kyoutani’s mouth thins into a hard line. “We’re not actually dating, Ya-Shigeru. You don’t have to try and ‘get to know me’ or whatever else this shit is.” 

Yahaba reels back, heart pinching with a mixture of hurt and anger. “I’m not doing it just for that. I-- is it so bad to want to know more about you?” He huffs. “Jerk.”

Kyoutani’s glare lasts all of two seconds before it softens. He has the decency to look the tiniest bit guilty. “Whatever. I just do my own thing.” 

Yahaba blinks. It takes him a second to realize that Oh, he answered my question. In the vaguest, most Kyoutani way possible. “I mean, who are your friends? What’s your circle?” 

Yahaba gets a flat look in response. 

“Wait, you don’t hang out with people?” 

Kyoutani shrugs a shoulder. “People are shitty.” A pause. “You know that.” 

Somehow, Yahaba knows exactly what he’s referring to. “Not all people are like Takashi. Everyone needs friends.” 

Kyoutani grunts. “I have friends.” 

“Well then tell me who!” 

Kyoutani stays silent, fidgeting absentmindedly. He does that a lot, Yahaba notes. Yahaba always knew Kyoutani had endless amounts of pent up energy inside of him, only to be released on the court in the form of powerful serves and wild spikes. But he’d never understood where that energy was coming from; was it hostility, like everyone thought, or...was it anxiety? 

“Come on,” Yahaba urges. “If I’m going to be your fake boyfriend I should at least know who your friends are.” 

A few more agonizing seconds tick by, and Yahaba groans. “Please, Kyoutani.” He sighs. “I just...I don’t know anything about you, okay? You’re so…” He waves wildly in Kyoutani’s direction. “Mysterious. I just want to know more.”

Kyoutani looks at him dubiously. “You don’t even like me.” 

Yahaba groans even louder. “Shut up about that! I do, okay? You’re a good person. Now will you please let me try to be your friend?”  Yahaba has no idea where this courage is coming from. This is so unlike him, so contradictory to Yahaba’s relentless pride and unwillingness to bend to anyone he didn’t consider above him. 

At least, Yahaba’s efforts seemed to have knocked Kyotani off guard enough for the gruff boy to blink and nod. “Uh. Fine.” 

Yahaba feels himself grinning, uncontrollably. “Good.” He waits patiently for Kyoutani to finally reveal the answer. 

Kyoutani’s eyes dart around for a few seconds before settling on Yahaba. “Maybe I’ll just show you.” He says, finally.

“What?” 

“I’ll show you.” He repeats. “You free after school?”

Yahaba feels like he’s entered an entirely new dimension. “Are you willingly asking me to hang out with you after school?” 

Wait no-- Wrong move. 

The guarded look returns to Kyoutani’s eyes. No, no, no, no, “Fuckin’-- You’re the one who--” 

Panicking, Yahaba punches his shoulder. “Shut up, of course I’ll go.” He blurts as quickly as he can, trying to reverse the damage. 

He almost sags in relief when the defensiveness melts away to make room for Kyoutani’s signature pissed off glare. Kyoutani rubs his shoulder. “Ya didn’t need to sock me, Jesus, Yahaba.” 

“Shigeru.” Yahaba corrects quietly, before slapping a hand over his mouth. Why the hell did I say that? It’s not like anyone around them is listening to their conversation.

He just...really liked hearing Kyoutani say his name. Wow, I’m so fucked. How did this happen? Yahaba wails to himself. I was fine two days ago. Two measly days, and I’m a wreck. 

“Right.” Kyoutani quips, oblivious to Yahaba’s internal freakout session. 

“Hey, quit flirting and help us clean up! Practice is over!” Watari’s cheery voice cuts through the air, startling Yahaba. He had honest-to-God forgotten about the rest of his team. The sounds of the gym rush back to his ears: Oikawa’s shrill bickering, the ball cart’s wheels squeaking against the floor, the last thuds of last-minute serve practice. 

Then, Watari’s words register in his ears. “We’re not flirting!” Yahaba yells back, a tad unshakily. 

Watari just sticks his tongue out at them, and Yahaba flips him off. 

Kyoutani snorts from behind him. “You’re such a baby.” 

Yahaba turns to him with an offended gasp. “Shut up.” 

This mundane, incredibly boring line elicits a grin from Kyoutani, and Yahaba momentarily forgets how to breathe. “Woa--” 

“ SERIOUSLY, STOP FLIRTING.” Watari’s voice booms in his ear, and Yahaba jumps 10 feet into the air. 

“Watari, you ass,” Yahaba turns on his best friend, jabbing a finger into his chest. He doesn’t get very far into his tirade, though, because from behind him, Kyoutani is laughing. 

Laughing. 

“You’re SO whipped, oh my God,” Watari teases in Yahaba’s ear, observing the starstruck expression on his friend’s face. 

Yahaba slams an elbow back into Watari’s gut, and he yelps. “Shut up.” 

Kyoutani gives one last snort before walking away from them at Iwaizumi’s call for help. “See you after school,” he says to Yahaba, who just nods. 

Watari snickers as he’s leaving. “Is this a date I’m hearing about?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Yahaba jolts. 

“No, Watari! It’s not a--” Yahaba lets out an agitated breath. “I hate you.” 

The libero just grins at him, dodging Yahaba’s outreached hand. “You love me. I made him laugh!” 

Yahaba growls. “At my expense!” 

Watari rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously telling me it wasn’t worth it?” 

Yahaba falls silent, biting his lip. It was worth it. But it had also lit a match in Yahaba’s heart, the competitive, possessive part of him seeping out ever so slightly. Now that he had seen Kyoutani’s laugh, he really wanted to see it again. 

“ Whipped.” Watari darts away before Yahaba can let out another scathing rebuttal. “See you in first period, Yahaba!” 

“Ass.” Yahaba grumbles under his breath. 

***

Thanks to Watari, Yahaba agonizes all day about whether or not his outing with Kyoutani could be considered a date. And if it is, is it a fake one, just part of this circus act that he’d created for himself? 

Or did it mean something? 

Chapter Text

After what feels like a thousand years of waiting, the bell finally rings. Yahaba’s out of his seat before the teacher even dismisses the class, which garners him many strange looks and a few snickers. 

He sits back down, cheeks burning under the teacher’s heavy glare. 

Once the class is actually dismissed, he’s extra cautious to get up to leave as everyone else is, and exits in the middle of a clump of fellow students. But as soon as he’s out the door, his legs speed up unconsciously and they carry him out to the front gates of Aoba Johsai. 

As he’s scanning his surroundings for a bleached head, Yahaba thinks for a split second that Kyoutani had been pulling his leg. But he quickly shakes that thought out, because Kyoutani would never bother with a task as troublesome as lying if he didn’t want to hang out with Yahaba, and he was probably just hiding somewhere, away from all these people.

Yahaba’s right. He finds Kyoutani slouched behind a wall, a little ways off from where the main crowd of students is. He’s staring intently at his phone, and Yahaba pauses for a second just to stare. 

No, he’s not ogling, okay? Just...observing.

“Hey, Kyoutani!” Yahaba says casually, not wanting to startle the guy.

Kyoutani’s head snaps up and his eyes widen a little when they land on Yahaba, causing Yahaba to frown. He didn’t think I’d stand him up, right? “Oh. Hey.” 

Yahaba lets out a forced chuckle. “What’s up?” 

Kyoutani tilts his head and regards him seriously. “Nothin’.” 

Yahaba jerks his head up and down. “‘Kay then.” He bites his lip, curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it just us?” 

Kyoutani furrows his brows. “Yeah. That a problem?” The guarded look has returned to his eyes, and Yahaba hates it. 

Yahaba’s confused, but he’s not about to object and ruin this whole thing. Plus...is he really going to complain about spending time alone with Kyoutani? “No, of course not.” 

Kyoutani pockets his phone and straightens up a little, still a bit hunched over though. Yahaba sweeps his own bangs to the side in a nervous habit. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” Yahaba responds a little too quickly, as if he’d had the line on the tip of his tongue. God, I’m so embarrassing. 

Kyoutani starts walking off to the student parking lot at a brisk pace, and Yahaba has to push himself to keep up. He nearly trips on a deflated football lying innocently in the grass as Kyoutani leads them on some imaginary, unpaved path-- Yahaba is starting to realize exactly to what lengths Kyoutani will go to avoid human interaction. 

“So, uh, where are we going exactly?” He doesn’t get a response. Well, unless a noncommittal grunt counted as one. 

“C’mon, Kyoutani, I gotta know that you aren’t going to drag me into the middle of nowhere and cut off all my fingers with a butter knife.” 

This gets him a snort. “Who says I won’t?” 

Yahaba pouts, but the effect is lost since Kyoutani can’t see it. “I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, Kentarou. You would never.”

Kyoutani just turns his head back just enough so that he can glance at him cryptically. 

They get to Kyoutani’s car, a small, beat up truck with a bike rack hanging off the trunk, and Yahaba takes a moment to survey it. “You know, I bet you’re the type to call your car a ‘she’ and give it a name.” 

Kyoutani frowns at that, and Yahaba pats himself on the back internally, knowing he’s got it right. He smirks, unable to help it- maybe he has picked up on some of Oikawa’s behavioral tendencies after all. 

“Just get’n the car already.” Yahaba’s smirk grows, but he obliges, folding himself into Kyoutani’s faded passenger seat. He tries to ignore how good it smells in the car- something like pine and fresh air. Totally not how Kyoutani smells. 

Yahaba even embraces the scrunched up fried chicken wrapped sitting in the cup holder, because it’s just so Kyoutani. 

But anyways, back to the matter at hand. “I’m right, aren’t I? What’s her name?”  

Kyoutani slams his door shut and aggressively clicks his seatbelt into the lock. “Shut up, Yahaba.” 

Yahaba pouts, half due to the cold response, and half because Kyoutani had said ‘Yahaba’ instead of ‘Shigeru’. But he’d never admit the latter part out loud. “C’mon, I won’t tease you.” 

Kyoutani slides him a disbelieving glare as he shifts the car into reverse. 

“Really. Scouts honor.” 

Kyoutani narrows his eyes. “You were a scout?” 

Busted. Yahaba hums, fighting a sheepish grin off his face. “I don’t have to be a scout to mooch off their honor, now do I?” 

Kyoutani’s lips twitch into something like a smile, and Yahaba counts it as a win. “It’s bee.” It takes Yahaba a moment to realize that Kyoutani was talking about the car.  

Bee? Like..like the insect? Wait... Yahaba can’t believe his ears. “What? Did you say ‘bee’?” 

Kyoutani’s ears burn red and Yahaba delights in the fact. “Asshole, y’said you wouldn’t make fun.” 

“I’m not!” Yahaba protests, and waves his hands around earnestly to emphasize his point. “It’s just, I mean, did you do that on purpose?” 

Kyoutani growls. “If y’mean, did I name my own damn car ‘bee’ to indulge some shitty joke about my hair, no, I fuckin’ didn’t.” 

Yahaba snickers behind his hand. “Okay, so you do know the implications behind it.” 

“I ain’t stupid.” 

Feeling devious, Yahaba remains pointedly silent and looks out the side window. The hairs on the back of his neck rise when Kyoutani’s deathly glare burns into the side of his head. 

“I ain’t. ” 

Yahaba relents, laughing. “I know. It’s a cute name.” Yahaba frowns. “Dunno why you chose it for this truck though.” 

Kyoutani scowls, returning his gaze to the road. Yahaba takes the opportunity to survey their surroundings. They’re driving towards the city center, so Yahaba assumes that they’d be meeting the others (whoever these elusive friends of Kyoutani’s are, at least) at some rendezvous point. 

Yahaba’s imagination gets the better of him, and he starts to speculate. Are these friends older, perhaps? He vaguely remembers hearing about Kyoutani’s past membership at some volleyball neighborhood club… 

Or maybe they go to a different school? Kyoutani isn’t that new of a student, but it’s still possible.. 

Maybe Kyoutani is even part of a gang. Yahaba frowned at himself for even thinking of it. Kyoutani is not a delinquent. 

“Oi. We’re here.” 

Yahaba blinks, and indeed, they’re sitting in a parking lot, and Kyoutani is already exiting the car. “O-oh!” 

Yahaba struggles to wrench his seatbelt from the stubborn lock and climbs out of the car a little late, to find Kyoutani waiting for him impatiently halfway down the parking lot. 

Yahaba jogs to catch up and wags a finger at him. “Didn’t even open the door for your boyfriend, shame on you.” 

A second later he thinks that maybe he should stop bringing up this “boyfriend” thing. 

Kyoutani doesn’t seem bothered, though. He merely gives Yahaba his usual scowl, even having the decency to turn a little pink. “Figured you’re more than capable enough to open a fuckin’ door.” 

Well, when he puts it that way...Yahaba smiles to himself. “Eloquent.” 

Kyoutani snorts. “Yeah, ‘s me.” 

Their conversation fades and Yahaba takes the opportunity to actually get a look at where they’re going. They’re headed towards a collection of shops, big and small alike. He spots a karaoke bar, colorful sign flashing, on the right, but he doubts that Kyoutani’s going there. He spots multiple restaurants, but it’s 3 in the afternoon- hardly a time for eating. 

It only takes 20 seconds of walking for Yahaba to narrow down the options, and it’s hardly a surprise when he realizes that they’re headed straight towards the local animal shelter. 

“Oh my god,” He gasps when they reach the sliding doors. “You have friends at the animal shelter? Do you volunteer here or something?” 

Kyoutani pauses with his hand on the handle, and glances at him carefully, trying to gauge Yahaba’s expression. “Yeah. So what?” An edge seeps into Kyoutani’s voice. 

Yahaba grins, but his heart twists inside. He always looks so on edge... Yahaba blurts the first cringey thing that comes to mind. “That’s rad.”  

It has the desired effect. Kyoutani turns a satisfying shade of red, his shoulders relax, and Yahaba bursts into laughter. “You’re so fuckin’ embarrassing..” He mutters, pulling the door open. 

There’s a split second where Kyoutani doesn’t move, and neither does Yahaba, but then- Oh, he’s holding the door for me. 

Yahaba bites the inside of his cheek to clamp down a giddy smile, and masks the awkwardness of the moment by digging an elbow into Kyoutani’s side on his way in. “Says you.” 

Kyoutani just grunts in return and follows Yahaba inside. 

As he steps into the shelter, the first thing Yahaba thinks is, warm. The room is warm, much warmer than the chilly air outside, and Yahaba relaxes instantly. The second thing he thinks is, noisy. He can hear the sounds of what must be at least a hundred animals, together-- mewls, barks, chirps, and shouts, all meshing together in a crazy cacophony of background noise.

Yahaba is surprised that Kyoutani would willingly choose to spend his time in such a loud environment. 

“Oy oy oy, who’s this, Kyou-bro?” A tall guy with a messy shock of black hair and easygoing posture wanders over, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Yahaba. He seems to be smirking, but Yahaba doesn’t know whether or not that’s just the way his facial features are. 

Plus...Yahaba swears he looks a little familiar, but he can’t place why...The giant apron the guy was wearing with blocked letters of the shelter’s name was probably throwing him off, too. 

Kyoutani glances at Yahaba, turns curiously pink, and scowls. He clears his throat. “Stop calling me that, Kuroo. And uh..this is Yahaba.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Yahaba greets smoothly, turning his Oikawa-charm on (yes, that’s what Yahaba has started calling it in his head) and flashing a well-practiced smile. 

It bounces right off of Kuroo, and Yahaba’s “charm” withers away at the calculating gleam in his eye. Effectiveness: 0. Looks like Yahaba still has a long way to go.

“Oh? And what relation do you have with our dear Kyou over here, hm?” 

Still caught off guard by Kuroo’s blatant disregard for typical politeness, Yahaba opens his mouth to stutter out a response, but Kyoutani beats him to it. “He’s my, uh, boyfriend.” 

Yahaba’s jaw drops. Huh? But we...but nobody from Seijoh is even here! He knows that his reaction is hardly a convincing one, but, in his defense-- he never would have thought that Kyoutani would be the one to admit their relationship status (fake or not). 

Even Kuroo seems taken aback, and he blinks a few times. “Boyfriend, huh? How come this is the first I’ve heard of this guy?” 

Kyoutani narrows his eyes. “Don’t make it seem like I even talk to you.” His voice is edging on the defensive, and Yahaba fights an amused smile. At least he knows that Kyoutani doesn’t solely reserve his prickly nature for the Seijoh volleyball team...that’s just the way he is. 

Kuroo places a hand on his heart, grinning lazily. “You wound me.” Kuroo slides his attention back to Yahaba. “You’re really dating this guy?” He jerks a thumb at Kyoutani. 

Said “guy” growls, and Yahaba grins, still floating from being called Kyoutani’s boyfriend. It’s fake, Shigeru. “Yeah, I mean..” It’s almost criminal how easy it is to say it. “He has his own charm, don’t you think?”   

Yahaba looks over at Kyoutani in a fake show of fondness, but he’s not expecting him to already be staring at Yahaba in surprise. “Um..” All too soon, Kyoutani looks away and Yahaba catches sight of the back of Kyoutani’s neck, which is rapidly turning pink. 

Kuroo smirks knowingly, and Yahaba gets the odd feeling that he’s been played. 

“Sure, if being an asshole is charming.” 

Kyoutani huffs and starts to stalk away, Kuroo chuckling as he does so. Yahaba hurries after him, snickering, and he waves back at Kuroo. “It was nice to meet you!” He shouts half-heartedly before turning back around and jogging up to Kyoutani’s side. 

“Have fun on your date!” Is the answering reply, just faint enough for Yahaba to hear. Yahaba fights off his incoming blush. Fake date. 

“Nice coworker you got,” Yahaba teases in an attempt to distract himself, elbowing Kyoutani. 

“He’s a pain. They’re all a pain.” Kyoutani bites out in response. It’s obvious, though, that Kyoutani doesn’t hate them..Yahaba can see it in his eyes. 

He’s glaring, but it’s not the murderous glare, Yahaba muses in his head. 

“Oh right, why’d you tell him that we’re, y’know..?” Yahaba lowers his voice. 

Kyoutani turns his head away. “ Whad’ya mean, you’re the one who said to start this fake-datin’ thing.” 

Yahaba hides his smile under his hand. “Yeah, but there aren’t Seijoh people here, right?” 

Silence stretches between them. 

“...Shut up, Yahaba.”

His heart does an irrational flip flop. Right, as if he’d shut up now. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re actually enjoying this whole ‘dating me’ thing, hm, Kentarou? ” 

Kyoutani’s response comes before Yahaba is even done talking. “Well you do know better.” 

If it was anyone else, Kyoutani’s venomous tone would be enough to shut them up (possibly for good), but Yahaba merely laughs and shoves at his shoulder. 

“Oh, so now you’re praising my intellect, Kentarou?”

Kyoutani pauses in his angry stride to glower at him in disbelief. “Unbelievable.” 

This just makes Yahaba crack up even harder, and he has to stop walking to catch his breath. “It’s just too easy to mess with you, Kyoutani.” 

To that, Kyoutani grumbles incoherently and rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Hurry up.” 

Yahaba starts walking again, an extra spring in his step that is bound to annoy Kyoutani. “So if Kuroo isn’t your friend, who is? It’s someone here, right?”

“Not someone.” Is Kyoutani’s cryptic response, and Yahaba frowns. 

“Huh?” 

“Not people.” A helpful elaboration. 

“Then...what?” 

“Animals.” 

Oh.

Yahaba mulls over that, and Kyoutani doesn’t elaborate as they push further into the shelter, past the elaborate cat towers, around the fish and turtle tanks, and under the swinging bird perches.

It doesn’t take long before Yahaba realizes exactly where they’re headed-- the loudest and largest section of the shelter-- the dogs. 

Yahaba refrains from laughing (the irony is not lost on him, after all), but he can’t stop grinning as Kyoutani scans his ID to enter a room full of dogs, some barking at the sight of him, others turning away uninterestedly. 

Kyoutani pushes the door open and looks back at Yahaba, inclining his head in a haphazard invitation to enter. 

“Are you sure I’m allowed? I don’t have an ID-”

“Forgot you were such a goody two shoes,” Kyoutani cuts him off, and Yahaba glares. 

“That’s not a bad thing,” He snips defensively. Sure, he respects (and may be a stickler about) the rules. Why shouldn’t he? Rules were there for a reason, right? 

Kyoutani merely shrugs his shoulders. “Your loss.” He steps inside and drops his hand, and the door starts to swing shut. 

Yahaba bites his lip, apologizes to his mother, and lunges forward to grab the door handle before the lock clicks, slipping inside after Kyoutani. “Asshole,” He grumbles, and Kyoutani glances back at him, not one bit surprised. 

At least he isn’t rubbing it in my face , Yahaba thinks to himself in a silent whisper of thanks. 

“Kenma.” Kyoutani says, out of the blue, and Yahaba startles. 

Kenma? Who- Then, Yahaba catches sight of the small silhouette of a guy about their age sitting in the corner, absentmindedly stroking a dog’s head while slipping them a treat. He has ombre hair, cut at about chin length, and when he looks up at the two of them, Yahaba catches sight of amber eyes.

“Hey, Kyou.” 

Does everyone here call him that? 

Kenma catches Yahaba’s eye, but he still doesn’t speak directly to him. “Who’s this?” 

Kyoutani grunts. “Kuroo said the exact same thing.” 

Kenma crinkles his nose a little at that. “Oh. Sorry.” 

Sorry? Yahaba can’t help but be a little amused. 

Kyoutani glances over at Yahaba again. “This is Yahaba.” Both Kenma and Yahaba wait for an elaboration, but that’s all Kyoutani says. Yahaba’s stomach swoops in disappointment. He never should have said anything to Kyoutani earlier…

Don’t be stupid, Yahaba. It’s totally reasonable. 

Yahaba senses that it’s his turn to speak. “Yeah, nice to meet you.” He offers Kenma a small, but genuine smile, and gets one in return. 

“ ‘m just…” Kyoutani clears his throat. “Showing ‘im around.” 

“Ok.” Kenma nods once before standing up leisurely and putting his treat bag away on a shelf. Yahaba is struck by how similarly fluid his and Kuroo’s actions are-- he can’t help but wonder if they’re close. Family, maybe? Best friends? 

Kenma gives them a short wave before pushing the door open and leaving, and Yahaba’s gaze lingers on the back of his shirt, which says, “Nekoma High School”. Nekoma...Nekoma volleyball team…

“He and Kuroo both play vb for Nekoma,” reminds Kyoutani curtly, and it all clicks in Yahaba’s mind. 

“Ohhh,” Yahaba smacks his hand to his forehead. “That’s why they seemed so familiar!” 

Kyoutani just raises one eyebrow at him. “Yeah. They’re best friends.” 

Ah, so Yahaba was right. “That’s it?” He muses, mostly to himself, but Kyoutani turns to face him, surprised. “Hm?”

“What’dya mean, ‘it’?”

Yahaba fidgets uncomfortably. He hadn’t intended his words to become the object of the conversation, but… “Uh,” hell, he didn’t even know if Kyoutani was homophobic or not. 

As soon as he thinks that, Yahaba wants to punch himself in the face. He literally agreed to fake date you, stupid. “I just meant, are they...y’know, dating?”

Kyoutani blinks, eyes widening for a second, before a scowl creeps back onto his features. “Uh- How the hell would I know?” He snaps, and Yahaba’s head spins at the change in tone. 

“I don’t know, you volunteer here with them? That kind of stuff should be pretty obvious?” Yahaba clips defensively, not expecting the aggression in Kyoutani’s answer. “It was just a question, geez.”  

Growling slightly, Kyoutani turns away from him and walks to the far corner of the room. Yahaba remains standing still in his spot, frowning, unsure whether to follow him or… He looks down at the scottish terrier pawing at his shoe. 

He’s not really a dog person, but they’re cute, he supposes.

Across the room, Kyoutani crouches down (Yahaba doesn’t look there, nope), reaches into his pocket for a dog treat, and holds it out towards an old German Shepherd that’s lying lazily in the corner.

Yahaba, realizing that Kyoutani wasn’t going to give him further instruction, cautiously makes his way over, trying desperately not to step on a tail or paw. 

“Who’s that?” He asks softly once he reaches Kyoutani’s side. The old dog looks up at him curiously for all of half of a second before laying her head down on the ground again. 

Kyoutani heaves a sigh. “Her name is Bailey, and she’s been at this shelter longer than I have.” He scowls. “Nobody ever wants to adopt her since she’s only expected to live another year or so.” 

Yahaba frowns along with him. “That’s...bad.” He pauses, finishing awkwardly. Bad, but understandable. 

Kyoutani nods jerkily. “Some of the shitholes working ‘ere wanted to put her down, sayin’ she’s just a ‘burden’.” 

Sitting down carefully on the floor next to Bailey, Yahaba reaches out to stroke the top of her head gently. “That’s stupid. Isn’t this an animal shelter?” 

A beat of strange silence stretches between them, causing Yahaba to look up at Kyoutani for a reaction. Only to find that Kyoutani is already looking at him, with an expression Yahaba’s never seen him wearing before. 

It’s almost...curious. 

Yahaba flushes, unused to the attention. “What’s up with that look?” 

His words seem to snap Kyoutani out of it, and the other boy coughs. “Nothin’. Yeah. ‘S stupid.” 

The heavy topic dissipates as Yahaba continues to pat at the top of Bailey’s head, a strange comfort washing over him. Kyoutani shifts out of his crouching position to sit on the floor next to Yahaba, tossing treats to random dogs in large, lazy arcs.

Yahaba’s never been the kind to stay silent for long. “So, is Bailey the friend you were talking about?” He teases, unrelenting. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t rub Kyoutani the wrong way, and he snorts. “Why not.” 

Yahaba peers at him slyly. “You talk to her? Like your very own counselor?” 

Kyoutani’s lips twitch up. “Yeah.” Yahaba can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but knowing Kyoutani’s “people suck” mentality, he probably isn’t. 

“That’s adorable. You ever talk about me?” Yahaba reaches out with his elbow to land a jab, but Kyoutani shifts away. Reaction time impeccable, as an ace should be. Yahaba struggles between pride and offense. 

“Hell no.” 

Yahaba grins easily and returns his gaze back to Bailey. “You totally do.” He’s joking, but Kyoutani’s silence causes Yahaba’s grin to fall flat and his heart to stutter. 

Oh my god, does he really? 

“...Only ‘bout how annoying you are.” Kyoutani grumbles, slowly. 

Yahaba grins again, but this time it’s goofy and uncontrolled. “Shut up, that’s no way to talk to your boyfriend .” 

Kyoutani scoffs. “ ‘Scuse you, I’m a fuckin’ awesome boyfriend.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the bolder-than-he-thought-Kyoutani-could-be sentence, Yahaba bites his lip to keep from laughing. “We’ll see.” 

His heart lifts at the way Kyoutani jabs his forehead, scowling. It almost feels like... friendship. 

Yahaba pretends not to notice how his response doesn’t sound anything like the insult he’d intended for it to be-- instead, it sounds like a promise. 

Chapter Text

“Yaaaahaba-chan, I thought I told you to get a fake boyfriend, not a real one!” Yahaba’s eyes fly open and he bolts upright, nearly hitting Oikawa in the face. The older setter’s leaning over him, smirking mischievously.

Completely on instinct, Yahaba sneaks a glance over Oikawa, looking for his eternal counterpart. Wherever Oikawa is, Iwaizumi is never far...Yahaba sends out a silent prayer for help, but Iwaizumi does not appear out of thin air, much to his disappointment.

Shit. 

Yahaba groans. “Oikawa-san, I’m studying…” 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him dubiously. “You mean sleeping?” 

Yahaba doesn’t have a chance to answer, as Oikawa’s first words register in his head. He flushes. “Wait, what do you mean, real? It is fake!” Yahaba lowers his voice unnecessarily; the library he’s in is practically empty anyways. 

Oikawa wags a finger at him. “You can’t fool me, Haba-chan. I saw you guys at the mall just two days ago!” 

Yahaba whines and flops his head back into his arms. He’s too exhausted for this type of interrogation, really. “We were just buying new knee pads, Oikawa…” 

He hears a gasp. “A knee pad date!” 

“No, it wasn’t a date!” He doesn’t really know why he keeps on insisting, since Oikawa’s practically famous for his stubborn nature, but something inside of Yahaba refuses to give in to the suggestion that he and Kyoutani are actually dating. 

Maybe it’s something akin to overcompensation for his own innate desires. After all, he sort of wishes…

“But you like him, right, Haba-chan?” Oikawa slides into the seat across from him and places his chin on the table to look Yahaba in the eye.

Oh screw it, two could play at this game. Yahaba thinks spitefully that Oikawa’s in no place to target him like this. “And you like Iwaizumi-san, right, Oikawa-san?” 

Oikawa keels backwards, and Yahaba is both shocked and amused at the way he almost falls over. “Haba-chan! Where on earth did you get that idea?” 

“It’s clear as day, Oikawa-san.” Yahaba says calmly, relishing being the one delivering the punches instead of taking them, for once. As much as he respects his captain, he’s no longer going to sit by and endure the teasing. 

Your own medicine tastes pretty bitter, doesn’t it? 

Oikawa is still spluttering, cheekbones rapidly turning pink. Sadly (to Yahaba, at least), Oikawa has one of those elegant blushes that barely touches his cheeks; it’s nothing like the all-consuming red that covers Yahaba from his forehead to chin. 

Yahaba’s jealous, as he is of most things regarding Oikawa. 

Maybe that’s why it stings so much when someone whispers how Yahaba is like a B-grade Oikawa. Or why he gets so riled up whenever someone tells him, ‘Yahaba, you sound just like Oikawa.’

“Honestly, Haba-chan, that’s ridiculous! Iwa-chan and I are just,” Oikawa pauses, and Yahaba smirks. “you know.” 

“I’m not sure I know, Oikawa-san.” As if I’d let you off the hook that easily. 

Oikawa throws his hands in the air, a look of distress on his face. “It’s not like that!” 

Yahaba settles back into his seat. “Well then, it’s not like that between Kyoutani and me and either.” Ha. If you want me to admit anything, you’ll have to do it too.

Oikawa’s eyes narrow at him for a few beats, before Oikawa sits back too, mirroring Yahaba’s casual pose. “So that’s how it will be, huh? Alright, I’ll play.” 

Wait, what? 

The older boy sniffs and tosses his hair. “Oh, the things I do for my precious kouhai.” 

No way he’s actually..

Oikawa beams, brittle, bright, and ever so slightly plastic . “Yes, I do have romantic feelings for Iwa-chan.” He deflates as the words leave his mouth, looking somewhat shocked that he’s said it. 

Holy. Shit. 

Yahaba’s jaw drops, despite already knowing this information. “Y-you-” 

Oikawa closes his eyes and shakes his head sadly, exaggerating a pout. “No, Iwa-chan does not know. And no, I shall not tell him, because I have much more to lose than you do.” Oikawa shoots him a pointed gaze, and Yahaba bristles. 

“What do you mean? Kyoutani and I are close friends too-” Yahaba cuts himself off with a resigned sigh. Alright, fine. Oikawa’s right. 

But… “Oikawa-san, I get why you won’t tell him, but…” 

Yahaba pauses. He tries to imagine. What would it feel like to keep his feelings bottled up inside, letting them fester there for years, without ever resolving them? 

“Aren’t you..unhappy?” 

A beat passes. Two. Oikawa sits there, eyes blown wide, seemingly frozen, like a computer screen glitching out. 

“Oikawa..?” 

“Un...happy?” A small jerk, and the motion picture continues to run. Oikawa smiles, a hint of melancholy tugging at the edges. “Happiness is subjective, right? I’m happy with Iwa-chan, as we are, right now.” 

“But you could be more happy if you just confessed.” Yahaba can’t help but add.

“Or,” Oikawa counters, “I could lose it all.” 

“But you won’t.” Yahaba insists. 

“But you don’t know that.” 

“But it’s obvious.” 

“The day he says it to my face, I’ll believe it.” 

“But-”

“No buts, Haba-chan.” Oikawa sighs, and Yahaba notices that his face suddenly looks terribly tired. “You win. I’ll leave you alone.” 

Yahaba blinks as Oikawa draws himself up from his chair slowly. He readjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder and gazes at Yahaba sadly, still smiling. 

“I came here to say one thing, really.

Don’t be like me, Haba-chan.” 

With that, he’s gone, and Yahaba relaxes into his seat, feeling completely drained. A morose feeling has settled itself over his chest, and Yahaba feels like Oikawa’s words have somehow set off some sort of cosmic timer.

The pressure’s on, sort of. 

Friendship in regards to romance was sort of like a parabola, Yahaba thinks. 

As one becomes better friends with someone, they have a higher and higher chance of being with that person romantically...but at some point, the graph turns around. As the friendship deepens, and solidifies, it gets harder and harder to turn that relationship into something more. 

There was a term for it, that level of friendship. Oh, right. Friendzoned, in the deepest sense of the word. 

Yahaba looks out the window, where Oikawa is exiting the library. He walks up to a haggard-looking Iwaizumi, sitting on the bench outside, and drapes himself over his shoulders like an overgrown scarf. 

Or, maybe our chances do continue to get higher...but we just get more scared? 

Oikawa’s head is buried into some part of Iwaizumi’s shoulder, but Yahaba can clearly see the sickeningly fond look in the ace’s eyes, even from a hundred feet away.

Am I really like that? 

Are we like that? 

They’d never be so blind...right? 

~~~

Yahaba doesn’t really know when he started getting used to going on weekly visits to the animal shelter with Kyoutani, but apparently it’s so ingrained into his schedule now that the one day Kyoutani happens to not be available, he finds himself waiting at their shady rendezvous point behind the school anyways.

Takashi had stopped approaching him in class, thankfully --probably publicly humiliated from that first encounter--, but he had yet to stop bothering Yahaba whenever he bumped into him alone. 

Yahaba didn’t tell Kyoutani about the encounters, though, and Kyoutani never brought up the subject of Takashi when they were together.

Yahaba wonders why not. 

Without Takashi, there’s technically no reason for Kyoutani to continue to play this game of charades with him, so shouldn’t he be curious about how well it was working?

That said, Kyoutani doesn’t strike Yahaba as the type to agonize over this type of thing anyways. 

Yahaba slaps his own forehead and tries to clear his thoughts, getting ready to start walking towards the street and make his way home. That is, until he hears a quiet voice behind him that causes shivers to run up his spine. 

“Shigeru.” 

Yahaba squeezes his eyes shut as his heart involuntarily fills with dread. Dammit, why him? Why now? 

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” 

He turns around and faces Takashi, who’s leaning against the wall, in the same pose and same spot that Kyoutani usually waits for Yahaba in. It does strange things to Yahaba’s brain, to see his least favorite person posing parallel to who was quickly becoming one of his most favorite people.  

Takashi smiles innocently, but it comes across as something slimy. “Aw, did you get stood up?” 

Stood up? Is he talking about my meetups with Kyoutani? How does he kno- The realization hits Yahaba like a punch in the gut. 

“Holy shit, are you stalking me?” Yahaba glares at him, seeing the other boy in an entirely new light. “That’s a new level of creepy, even for you, Takashi.” 

Takashi chuckles and kicks himself off the wall, creeping closer to Yahaba, who takes a step back. The dark corner Yahaba usually found comforting was starting to feel like a trap. 

“Stalking you? Don’t flatter yourself, Yahaba.” 

Yahaba clenches his fists. Just walk away. Walk away, Shigeru. NOW! His legs don’t move, though, and Takashi closes the space between them, leaning in close to his ear. Ew, ew, ew, ew..  

“By the way, Shigeru. I know.” 

He...knows? About what? The fake...dating..? Yahaba’s eyes widen against his own will. Takashi notices, and smirks. 

No. That’s impossible. Nobody except for Oikawa and Watari knows that it’s fake, and none of them would have said anything. 

“You don’t know shit, ” Yahaba manages to spit shakily. 

Takashi’s grin slips away and his mouth twists with displeasure. 

Yeah, take that, asshole. 

“Still trying to hide it, huh?”

“Hide what? ” Yahaba’s beginning to lose his patience, he just wants to get out of here-

“I know you’re only dating that guy to get me to leave you alone.” 

Yahaba’s jaw drops and everything goes still for a second. Shit, he really does know? Does that mean everything he did was for nothing? All his efforts—

Takashi sneers at him. “You know, I didn’t think you’d stoop to that level. You’re probably breaking your boyfriend’s heart.” 

For once, Takashi’s inability to shut up helps Yahaba, because Oh. Yahaba almost sighs in relief. So, Takashi thinks he’s stringing Kyoutani along... Wait, that’s somehow worse! 

But Yahaba can’t really object and tell Takashi the truth, can he? 

Seeing Yahaba at a loss for words must empower the other boy in some way because Takashi bulldozes on, gloating gleefully. “Guess you’re not so high and mighty as I thought, huh?” 

Yahaba cringes away as Takashi leans into his personal space once again, whispering low in his ear. 

Just punch him; just leave; why won’t my arm move? 

“But. Playing dirty just for me...that’s pretty hot.” 

Oh god , Yahaba’s going to vomit. His stomach lurches and he finally regains control of his body as survival instinct kicks in; he shoves Takashi away from him with all his might. 

“You’re disgusting.” He snarls, before turning on his heel, heart pounding, focused on getting as far as possible from the freak. 

He’s not proud of running away, but…

“We’re perfect for each other!” Takashi cackles from behind him, and Yahaba resists the urge to throw a rock at his face. 

Doesn’t he know when to give up? What’s wrong with him? What did I ever do to deserve this? 

Yahaba bites his lip to keep from blurting out that Yahaba is nothing like him. Just leave. You can deal with this later. 

Yahaba’s trusty feet propel him away from the alleyway and out the gates of Aoba Johsai. He’s clenching his jaw, the familiar prickle of frustrated tears pulsing behind his eyes, but he won’t let them fall, because he’s not going to cry because of Takashi--

Why did this have to happen to me? Why couldn’t Takashi just pick on someone-- Yahaba stops himself right there. He wouldn’t wish Takashi on anyone else.

Better it’s me, he thinks bitterly. 

The tension doesn’t leave his shoulders until he’s in the safety of his own home, and Yahaba almost stumbles in his haste to retreat inside, shuts the door behind him, turns, and slumps against the wall, sighing. 

Subconsciously, his fingers reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, swiping to Kyoutani’s contact. 

Before he has time to question his actions, his fingers are flying over the keypad and the letters appear, as fast and as uncontrollable as droplets of rain, on the screen. 

>> You: you busy? I kind of need to talk

Immediately after he presses send, he regrets it all. 

Of course, Kyoutani is busy, or else he would be here, with Yahaba, and Takashi would have never dared to approach them. Of course, Kyoutani is busy, and of course, Yahaba is an idiot. 

He glances down at the blue bubble, cursing the fact that there is no unsend function on an iMessage. Shit. 

Yahaba wants to smack himself, too, for being so dependent. What, all Takashi did was talk to him, and now Yahaba needs Kyoutani to comfort him? When did he get so... weak? 

Yahaba’s heart shrivels a little inside and he grimaces at himself. “You’re stronger than this.” He mutters under his breath, ignoring the part of him that falls numb at the statement.

He brushes a curtain of pride in front of his heart and heads to his room, ready to drown in the familiar burden of homework. 

Later on that night, after Yahaba has filled his stomach with food and his homework sits, completed, on his desk, his phone buzzes. 

Thinking it’s Watari asking him yet again about a Calculus problem, Yahaba reaches over from where he’s lounged on his mattress and switches the device on. 

The screen brightens to a cheerily bold name of “Kentarou” flashing before Yahaba’s eyes. 

>> Kentarou: was helping my sister. what ? 

Yahaba musters the energy to smile wanly. He sounds so—

Classic Kyoutani. 

Usually, Yahaba has the energy to tell himself not to take the curt nature of Kyoutani’s messages to heart, to set his infuriating insecurities aside and use logic to deduce that Kyoutani does like being around him, or else he would have ditched Yahaba by now, but today--

Today, Yahaba is just not up for it. 

>> You: it’s fine

As much as he wants to admit that it doesn’t, Yahaba’s heart sinks underwater when Kyoutani’s grey bubble doesn’t so much as register as ‘typing’ after that.

His phone remains silent through the night. 

For the first time, Yahaba falls a little out of (love) like. 

~~

It doesn’t last very long. 

The next morning, Yahaba wakes up to an angry honking outside his window. At first, he thinks that it’s his neighbors, a loud family whose arguments can sometimes be heard even from one house over. 

So he buries his head deeper into his pillow and attempts to ignore the sound.

It’s less ignorable when his phone starts ringing like mad. 

This time, Yahaba’s eyes fly wide open, because that’s the ringtone that Hanamaki set for Kyoutani when he and Mattsun thought it’d be funny to hack into Yahaba’s phone that one day after practice and why is Kyoutani calling him oh god-

Since it’s morning and Yahaba doesn’t turn into a functional human being until 11am at least, Yahaba doesn’t remember last night's events until he’s already picked up.

“Hello?” 

“Yahaba, hurry the fuck up. Your neighbors look one second away from keying my damn car while ‘m sittin’ in it.”

“Wh- what?” 

An angry growl. “I’m outside, and move your skinny ass.”

Yahaba splutters. “I’m not skinn- ” 

With a click, Kyoutani hangs up.

“Says you.” He grumbles pettily. Kyoutani is all skin and bones (and muscle, but Yahaba tries not to think about that), so really, who is he to judge? At least Yahaba’s taller. Small victories. 

But hold on. What. The. Fuck. 

This is not a normal occurrence. Kyoutani never shows up at his house at the unreasonable hour of..holy fuck, it’s already 7:49? 

Yahaba leaps out of bed, panic pushing all his other thoughts away and jolting him wide awake. He brushes his teeth hastily, throws his clothes on, grabs his hair product because he doesn’t have time to pick at himself in front of a mirror today, and sweeps his various notebooks into his backpack. 

Flying downstairs and snatching a banana, Yahaba runs outside. Kyoutani’s truck, Bee , is rumbling impatiently in his driveway, the driver looking down at him with all the grace and goodliness of a rock. 

Yahaba scowls at him, barely resisting the urge to blow a childish raspberry, before jogging over and scrambling into the passenger seat. 

He’s hardly closed the door before Kyoutani’s backing out like he’s in some sort of racing game.

“Okay chill, I don’t want to die.” Yahaba manages to snap as he narrowly saves his banana from tumbling to the ground.

Kyoutani snorts. 

He pulls out onto the road, and once Yahaba has righted himself, Yahaba turns to look at him curiously. “So what gives?” 

Instead of a noncommittal reply like Yahaba is expecting, Kyoutani returns his gaze with a serious stare. Yahaba almost gulps, feeling like a kid caught stealing cookies. 

He’s suddenly self conscious of his unfixed hair, which must look like a rats nest. He brings a hand up hesitantly, trying to brush the bent locks into their usual side swept state while being as casual as possible.

“Yesterday.” 

Yesterday. Yesterd- Oh, right. 

Yahaba barely manages to keep himself from flinching as memories of Takashi and cold text messages come rushing back. “What about it?” It’s a miracle his voice comes out as lightly as it does. 

Kyoutani huffs. “What did you need to talk about?” 

This catches Yahaba off guard. 

“Huh?” Is Yahaba’s eloquent reply. He blinks. “Uh..I said it was fine.” 

Kyoutani taps his index finger incessantly on the steering wheel. If he wasn’t using his legs to press the gas pedal, his knee would probably be bouncing like mad. Why do I even know that? 

“I ain’t the most social guy but even I know that ‘it’s fine’ means the opposite of what s’supposed to.” 

Even as Yahaba frowns, his heart warms. So Kyoutani does care. 

Of course he does, he’s your friend. Yahaba kind of wants to smack himself, for being so insecure and butthurt about a simple text message. This is why everyone calls you a drama queen.

Another wave of self deprecation washes over him, prickling at his skin. His nerves still feel fried, and the abruptness of this morning and the freshness of everything that happened yesterday weighs heavy on Yahaba’s shoulders. 

Kyoutani huffs. “Oi, you gonna answer my question or not?” 

The dam cracks. Yahaba grasps at words, any words, to fill the gap. “Maybe I would if you weren’t such a jerk all the time.” His mouth supplies, completely unhelpfully, carrying much too much honesty for Yahaba’s liking. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean--” He rushes to fill, eyes widening as he turns his head to avoid seeing Kyoutani’s reaction.

There isn’t much of one anyways. In fact, there’s nothing but silence after that, but it seems electrically charged, and the awkwardness threatens to suffocate Yahaba. He doesn’t dare to turn his head back forwards, a mixture of embarrassment and fear having paralyzed the muscles in his neck, but his curiosity burns. 

Is he mad? Is he confused? Does he hate me now? God, why did I even say that? 

“Did I-” Kyoutani starts, voice so low that Yahaba barely picks up on it. He doesn’t sound like he’s about to punch Yahaba, so Yahaba cautiously swivels his head over to look at him.

“Huh?” 

“Did I...fuck up?” Kyoutani repeats, staring resolutely ahead at the road. The morning sun cuts across his nose, just barely lighting up the tips of his ears, which Yahaba notes are turning a cute pink.

Yahaba swallows, heart melting again. “No. Not really. I’m sorry. I’m just...yesterday took a toll on me.” 

Kyoutani glances at him, at this. “Explain?” 

Yahaba smiles weakly. “Maybe later. But we’re almost at school.” Maybe if he stalls, he can get himself together, enough so that he doesn’t feel like bursting into tears when he thinks about Takashi and Kyoutani. 

Kyoutani hums lowly, casts him another glance, before looking back to the road. He turns into the Aoba Johsai student parking lot. 

“K.” 

As soon as they park, Yahaba’s unclipping his seatbelt and hopping out of the truck. He doesn’t even turn to catch Kyoutani’s confused look before waving haphazardly over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.” 

With that, he rushes off to his first class.

Or at least, tries to, before realizing Oh, wait. I sit next to him. 

Fuck. 

Kyoutani catches up with him in no time. “You’re being weird.” He says, after a pause.

Yahaba smiles weakly. “I know.” His words hang heavy, suspended in the air between them.

They walk together in silence to their first period. 

Chapter Text

Class passes relatively quietly. Yahaba is only called on once, and he manages to relax a little by focusing on the teacher’s words, no matter how boring they might be. By the end of the period, Yahaba’s thinking that everything will be fine, that he’ll talk with Kyoutani calmly and find a way to deal with Takashi—

He should have known nothing ever comes that easy. 

As he’s packing up his things, someone speaks up from above him. 

“Heyyy, Kyoutani, wanna chat?”

Takashi? Yahaba’s heart rate picks up instinctively and he grips his papers tighter. 

Kyoutani’s knee starts to bounce. “Nope.”

If Yahaba’s heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute and anxiety didn’t feel like it was dragging his features down, he might have smiled. 

And because Takashi’s sole purpose is to make Yahaba suffer, he continues, egging him on. “C’mon man, I think you’ll really want to hear it.” He said no.

Yahaba takes a deep breath, flexes his fingers in an attempt to relax them, and sits up, glaring at Takashi. His throat still feels like closing up, but he has to interrupt before this goes further. 

“What the fuck do you want, Takashi?” He spits, voice cracking embarrassingly on the word ‘fuck’. 

Takashi smirks and holds his hands up, eyes shifting lazily over to Yahaba’s face. “Just an innocent chat, like the one we had yesterday,” he drops casually. 

Yahaba’s blood runs cold. He hasn’t even gotten a chance to tell Kyoutani about yesterday! 

Kyoutani glances at Yahaba, curiosity and something slightly more dangerous glinting in his narrow eyes. “Follow me.” He says after a long beat. 

Yahaba’s confused for a second before he realizes that Kyoutani isn’t speaking to him and was, instead, speaking to the last person Yahaba wants him to. 

Yahaba panics, barely choking out, “Wait no!”

Takashi chuckles mirthlessly, evidently enjoying the whole situation. “Don’t worry Yahaba, I won’t tell any lies about you.” 

Gritting his teeth, Yahaba starts to reply, but Kyoutani beats him to it. “This better be quick.” 

In a last ditch effort, Yahaba tries again. “Don’t-” His arm moves on its own, reaching out to grab at Kyoutani’s something— a shirt, an arm, anything, but Kyoutani stands up too quick, the legs of his chair screeching against the floor. He walks past Yahaba silently and leads Takashi out of the room.

Takashi winks back at Yahaba on his way out, and Yahaba suppresses the urge to shudder. 

Shit, what’s he going to say? There isn’t much that Takashi knows, so Yahaba doesn’t know what to be afraid of, but Takashi talking to Kyoutani alone is enough to make his palms sweat. 

What if Kyoutani tells him about the plan? No, he wouldn’t. Right?

Yahaba shakes his head at himself. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s not like that. 

But then a different possibility hits him. Takashi is a master manipulator. He pushes Yahaba’s buttons without even trying, and what if he knows Kyoutani’s buttons too? What if he tells Kyoutani that Yahaba doesn’t care about him? That he’s just using him?

Yahaba isn’t using Kyoutani in the way that Takashi thinks, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is using Kyoutani, and— 

Yahaba knows Kyoutani. 

And Kyoutani would believe Takashi. 

Grabbing his bag off the floor, Yahaba practically leaps out of his seat and follows his fake boyfriend and greatest tormentor out the door. 

He exits the classroom just in time to see Kyoutani’s (thankfully, very noticeable) head disappear around the corner of a less-used hall, and Yahaba follows it after waiting a few seconds to be safe. 

He waits for Kyoutani and Takashi to disappear into an empty classroom before pressing himself to the wall outside, praying the walls were thin enough to hear through.

“So? Talk.” Kyoutani’s voice, definitely. Yahaba’s unashamed to admit that he would recognize Kyoutani’s voice even after it’s been processed through a compressor and volume lowered to 5%. 

“You sure are an unfriendly guy, Kyoutani.” Yahaba would probably recognize Takashi’s too. But for wildly different reasons.  

Kyoutani speaks again. “You have 60 seconds.” 

“Alright alright, geez….even though you’re such a rude guy, you still don’t deserve what that Yahaba is doing to you, so…” 

Takashi’s false charisma disgusts Yahaba. Yahaba’s used to charisma, what with being around Oikawa for much of his day, but Oikawa’s charisma is genuine, or at least kind. Maybe it’s why Yahaba recoils from Takashi so much. It’s unnerving that one of his most admired people is so similar to his tormentor, yet different in such a pivotal way. 

“50.” 

Yahaba’s lips twitch at this. So Kyoutani. 

“You know, Kyoutani, I just thought that you should know some of the truth that I found out about Yahaba.”

“K.” 

Yahaba smiles a little in relief, hand coming to rest at the base of his throat. There’s nothing to worry about. What Takashi thought was the truth, Kyoutani already knew. Right..?

“Well, I’m really sorry,” Sure you are. Yahaba snorts internally. 

“But...he’s only dating you for me.”

Wow, what a way to phrase it. Yahaba cringes. Even the thought is ridiculous. How could someone be so deluded? As if, as if, as if…

“Eat shit.”

At least Kyoutani seems completely unfazed. 

“Nah, I’m serious. He doesn’t actually care about you, you know, I mean can you blame him—”

That causes red to tinge the edges of Yahaba’s vision, and he thinks he might just commit murder today. At the same time, a tidal wave of concern starts to well up in Yahaba’s heart. 

Don’t believe him, please, don’t believe him—

“Eat. Shit.”

Yahaba starts breathing. Thank god. 

“Kyoutani, if you don’t believe me, then just ask what happened yesterday.”

“Sure.”

Yahaba bites his lip. He should have just told Kyoutani immediately, ugh, why did he spend so long in his head? 

“I knew you’d come around-”

“The fuck did you do to him yesterday?” 

Yahaba blinks. Wait— 

“What?” Takashi sounds smaller, and Yahaba relishes in it. 

“‘M askin’ you , fucker. And don’t bullshit me.” 

There’s a long beat of silence, and Yahaba struggles to process what he’s hearing. 

Kyoutani’s not...blaming me?

Takashi replies, at last. “I just had an innocent chat with him, that’s all-”

A loud thud vibrates through the wall that Yahaba has his ear pressed against, and he flinches. Holy shit, what’s happening, should I go inside, oh my god is Kyoutani actually-

“Woah woah, calm down-” Well, Takashi isn’t crying in pain, so on second thought, Yahaba doesn’t need to intervene. 

“Don’t go near him.”

“What? Dude, I just told you that your alleged boyfriend doesn’t even like you, what’s your dea-”

“Don’t. Go. Near. Him.” 

There’s another stretch of silence, and Yahaba can practically picture the twisted look of surprise on Takashi’s face as he reprocesses his twisted plan. It’s oddly satisfying. 

“W-wow, Yahaba really struck gold with you, you’re like his puppy guard dog, that’s so cute.” 

Takashi is either extremely stupid or extremely brave. But Yahaba already knew that.

There’s another thud, and Yahaba kind of (read: very much) hopes that Kyoutani actually hit Takashi this time. 

“ Fuck, you almost hit me, you crazy asshole! I’m gonna report you, I swear to-” 

Almost? Yahaba sneers. Disappointing.

“Don’t make me punch you.” Even Yahaba can hear the “I will” attached to the end of that statement.

Yahaba knows it’s a bluff. On one of their trips to the animal shelter, Kyoutani had defensively confessed that he’s never punched a soul, and that fights scare the shit out of him. 

Yahaba’s heart had melted right there and then, but this moment transcends that, because here Kyoutani is, bluffing for his sake. Being brave for his sake. 

Something that Yahaba just can’t seem to do. 

“Alright, fine, just fuck off!” Takashi half whines, half growls. Yahaba has to give it to him, he’s doing a fantastic job of holding his own. But maybe he’s just a special brand of dumb. 

There’s another thud, a yelp, before the door flies open. Yahaba has zero time to react as Kyoutani storms outside, slamming the door behind him. He turns, catching sight of Yahaba, who’s still standing there frozen, and nearly jumps, eyes widening and losing their angry glare instantly. 

“Y-you. What are you— you eavesdropping?” 

Yahaba blinks twice, opens his mouth, and decides against it, instead opting to  grab Kyoutani's wrist and pull him far away from that classroom. 

Kyoutani follows rather amicably. Yahaba can feel his wrist trembling (though he’s not entirely sure whether it’s his own fingers that are trembling or Kyoutani) and his heart twists. 

Once they get back to their first period classroom, the two gather their things in silence and leave the room. Yahaba can’t help but glance around for Takashi, hoping he isn’t there. 

Yahaba is turning to leave, still not stable enough to say what he wants to, and not knowing what to do with the million emotions warring in his heart, when Kyoutani coughs. 

“Hey. Lunch?” 

Yahaba nods from his position, still turned away from Kyoutani. “‘Course.” 

Then he walks out. 

As he sits through his second period, restlessness takes over his thoughts. He can’t stop thinking about what Kyoutani has done for him, unable to believe it. It’s straight out of a movie, and if Yahaba was a brainless protagonist, he would be convinced that Kyoutani was his prince in (suspicious) armor, and that Takashi would never bother him again.

But he’s not, so he tells himself that this is nothing but a temporary fix, if a fix at all. 

Kyoutani’s scare isn’t going to last long. Especially not when it’s directed at someone as mindless as Takashi.

That doesn’t mean that it didn’t turn the tables. 

The leap that Kyoutani has taken for him kicks Yahaba into motion, releases the ball and chain from his ankle and sets him free. A fire’s been lit, and Yahaba burns to be brave himself, and do something about Takashi. 

He’s done thinking that he deserves this. That it’s not a big deal. He’s done sitting still. 

Someone else believes that he doesn’t deserve this. Someone else thinks it’s a big enough deal to sacrifice their own comfort for. Someone else didn’t stand still. 

Yahaba doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do, but he at least knows where to start.

So as soon as the bell rings, he’s out the door and down the hall to the administrator's office. Takashi has to go. 

It goes something like this. 

“Hi there, how can I help you?” 

“Hey...I want to report a student who has been harassing me.”

“...I see. Please come in. What’s your name?”

“Yahaba Shigeru.”

“Well, Shigeru. I hope you feel safe telling me about this today. I want you to know that our students' safety is our priority. Nothing is too big or too small. So please, whenever you’re ready.”

“...okay. His name is...” 

When Yahaba walks out, eyes slightly red, head held high, he feels a hundred pounds lighter. He’s just making his way to lunch as the P.A. system beeps once, loud and jarring. Twice. 

“Takashi Laumaya, please report to the principal’s office. Immediately.” 

~~~

“Suspended. For 2 months.” Watari mutters, looking like he’s been clobbered with an anvil. He leans back against the tree that he, Yahaba, and Kyoutani are sitting under, and lunchbox laying forlornly next to his knee and dangerously close to tipping over.

Yahaba nods, chewing on the tip of his fingernail as he eyes Watari.

“Yahaba. Yahaba, dude ! Why didn’t you tell me that’s why you fake dated Kyoutani?” Watari jerks an accusing thumb at the man in question, who furrows his brows angrily. 

From his tense position, Kyoutani glares at a spot on the grass, fidgeting restlessly. Yahaba glances at him worriedly. He wanted to talk to him earlier, but when Yahaba got to their lunch spot, Watari had already been present, so he had to explain yesterday’s events and the announcement to both second-years at once. 

And Watari had had a lot to say. In fact, he still isn’t done, Yahaba thinks to himself affectionately.

“Yahaba! I would have reported the guy without a second thought!” Watari continues to splutter into thin air. “Shigeru, you’re so stupid! Why would you— what’s— how did I not know you were being harassed?” 

Watari’s brow scrunches darkly at this, and Yahaba scowls, knowing that the libero is beating himself up. “Don’t do that. It’s not your fault.” 

The libero curls his hands into fists anyways. “Still, I’m- we’re supposed to be best friends!” 

Yahaba pauses, trying to find the right words, but Kyoutani beats him to the punch and speaks up, surprising both of the other boys. “It’s not your fault that Yahaba lies as a habit.” 

...Okay, but did he really have to go there? It’s a joke, but there’s just a smidge of something spikey in that jab, and Yahaba frowns. What is he thinking? 

Sometimes, Kyoutani really is like a wild animal, because just when Yahaba is starting to understand him, he shifts angles and Yahaba returns to sitting squarely in square one.

Watari just groans. “Yahaba…”

Yahaba smiles wryly, shrugging a little. “I played it off until I couldn’t really...no longer.” 

Watari makes an indignant noise. “You went and got a fake boyfriend before you reported him! What sort of logical person does that?”

Yahaba actually has a comeback for this one. “ Okay , in my defense, that was Oikawa’s idea.” He tries, before instantly wishing he could suck the words back in.

That’s only going to make things worse, because--

The libero splutters. “ Oikawa knew?” 

Yahaba bites his lip, trying to undo the damage. “He didn’t know how bad it was though. So don’t blame him for not doing anything about it.” 

Watari just spits out another jumbled mess of syllables that Yahaba doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher.

“Does Oikawa know what happened yesterday?” Kyoutani cuts in, an edge to his words.

Yahaba shakes his head, eyes dropping to his lunch. “No. I didn’t tell anyone, except--” He stops talking, eyes going wide.

He was going to tell Kyoutani, but then...the text messages happened. And he lost his nerve. 

Kyoutani watches him patiently, waiting for the end of the sentence. Yahaba gulps. “Nobody. I didn’t tell anybody.” 

Watari lets out another loud groan and Yahaba looks over at him. He’s pulling at his sleeves, eyebrows furrowed, and Yahaba’s heart warms to know that Watari cares so much. “You know what? Okay. Okay, Yahaba, but are you okay now?” 

What a question.

Honestly, Yahaba doesn’t really know. How is he supposed to know how he feels right now? “Okay” is a big word to sum up the bajillion emotions Yahaba’s trying to process. 

“Um,” he starts, deciding that he would just state facts and see if he could piece it all together. “I’m relieved. That the problem is being solved. I’m also...frustrated. That it had to come to this. And...I’m still a little nervous.” 

Neither Watari nor Kyoutani dares to move, instead, they sit frozen in their spots, clinging onto every word.

“I...am happy. That I have you two. And still a little annoyed at myself for a lot of reasons.” He pauses, and then sighs out a, “I also really have to talk to Kyoutani,” without thinking. 

Oops. He didn’t mean to--

Yahaba flinches and instinctively looks at Kyoutani for a reaction, only to find that he’s staring right back at him, golden eyes widening by just a fraction. 

A few seconds pass.

Watari coughs. “Should have just said so earlier,” he grumbles, biting back a smirk that is in no way subtle. Yahaba feels his face start to heat up. 

Watari moves to stand up, and Yahaba scrambles. “Wait, you don’t have to--”

But Watari isn’t having any of it. “Oh no no, don’t worry about little old me, the perpetual third wheel, I’ll just roll my way out of whatever I interrupted and you guys can have a good old chat,” he rambles, packing up his lunch with finality.

Yahaba’s cheeks burn. “Watari!” 

He doesn’t dare look at Kyoutani now. 

Watari jogs away quickly, and Yahaba supposes that he does appreciate how willing Watari was to give them space.

But now…

Holy hell , it was awkward.

Yahaba shifts back into a sitting position, resolutely staring at the grass underneath him and trying to ignore Kyoutani’s presence just diagonal from him. If he can’t see him, he’s not there, ri--

“So, talk.” 

O-kay. Yahaba barely holds himself back from flinching, and he takes a deep breath. Kyoutani has a right to be on guard and cautious, he reminds himself. The things that Takashi said...they were only painful because they had a grain of truth in them.

No, Yahaba isn’t actually dating Kyoutani, but… “He doesn’t actually care about you, you know.” 

Fuck Takashi. That’s not true. 

“I…” Yahaba curses at himself, tongue-tied. He had this conversation all planned out a few minutes ago, damn it! 

Kyoutani waits, ever patient. He’s always patient with Yahaba when it counts, Yahaba notes glumly to himself. 

He doesn’t deserve Kyoutani, he really doesn’t. 

“Thanks.” Yahaba finds himself saying, looking up and at Kyoutani, square in the eye. He’s done running away. Yahaba half-asses a lot of things, but he’s not going to half-ass this gratitude.

Kyoutani holds his gaze for all of one second before looking away. “For?” 

“Standing up for me, earlier today. And, I dunno, dealing with me. Doing this whole fake-dating thing in the first place. I know you didn’t want anything to do with me, before.” Yahaba says, simply. 

Kyoutani grunts, frowning and scratching at the back of his neck. “‘Kay, I guess. It wasn’t-- was fine.” He mumbles. 

Yahaba raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

Kyoutani huffs. “I didn’t hate it, okay? Wasn’t a big deal.” 

He didn’t...hate it? What does that mean? They are friends, after all, so it’s not as if Yahaba thinks that Kyoutani doesn’t enjoy his company. But he had to have been annoyed at having to pretend to date Yahaba, even if every day it started to feel more and more...natural. 

“What do you…” Yahaba can’t bring himself to ask, to hope, so he doesn’t say anything more. 

Another few tense seconds pass. There’s so much more that he has to clear up, and Yahaba tries to figure out where to start, but it’s hard. Does he start with when he texted Kyoutani? Or even before that, with Takashi’s confrontation? Or earlier today, after eavesdropping on them? Kyoutani must have questions, right?

“Stop thinking so hard, I can hear you from here.” 

Yahaba swivels his head to the side and glares. “I’m thinking hard about you, you little--” 

“What did you want to tell me? Yesterday. Was it about Takashi?” Kyoutani grumbles, softly.

Well. Guess I’ll start there. “Uh, yeah. It was just...after he cornered me yesterday. I was, uh...not doing well.” Yahaba laughs, but it’s more out of anxiety than anything else.

Kyoutani’s face darkens, and Yahaba prays that he didn’t say anything wrong. “Kay. And why didn’t you tell me then?” 

Ah.

Yahaba gulps.

He really doesn’t want to say. 

“ was helping my sister. what”

Did he seriously get hurt over that? It’s so petty. He was so petty, and he wasn’t in his right mind, and it’s embarrassing. What’s he supposed to say? ‘You sounded cold so I got mad?’ He can already see Kyoutani laughing at him. 

Well, no, he wouldn’t laugh. But still… 

“Shigeru.” 

Yahaba jumps at the name and his words come tumbling out. “I just-- you sounded so-- and I-- I felt like I couldn’t-- geh.” 

He throws his arms up over his face and mumbles. “That made no sense.”

Kyoutani snorts. “No, it didn’t.” 

Yahaba sighs and takes a deep breath, keeping his face hidden. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s not a big deal. I was just being stupid.” 

Kyoutani is stubborn as iron, though, so of course, he doesn’t let it alone. “Don’t fucking do that. You’re not stupid. Just tell me. I fucked up, right?” 

Yahaba is shocked into silence at that. He said that earlier in the car, too. “I fucked up”. It comes out so easily, like Kyoutani has been expecting it all along, and that irritates Yahaba more than he would like to admit. 

“You didn’t fuck up, okay, I told you, it’s my problem--” 

“Just--jesus, Shig-- did I f--...hurt you?” Kyoutani chokes out. 

He wants to lie, but it doesn’t come fast enough. 

Kyoutani takes his silence as an answer. “If I did, then I fucked up. Just tell me what I did. So I can fix it.” 

“...” Yahaba groans loudly, giving in. “Okay! Fine! It was your text, okay? It just sounded so cold and like you didn’t give a shit about what I wanted to say, so I didn’t say it! That’s it, and I’m a petty little shit! You happy? God fucking damn it.” 

Kyoutani’s swearing habits must be rubbing off on him, Yahaba thinks in dismay as his head comes back down into his elbows. 

He tenses up, waiting for the inevitable scoff, or laugh, or something, anything to confirm that he is indeed annoying and oversensitive and everything in-between. Instead, he gets: 

“You’re not petty.” 

Huh? 

“Sorry.” 

….Huh??

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t-- like. That. I-- always. Want to hear what you say. I’ll..do better. In the future.” 

Yahaba cannot believe his ears. “What?” He whispers, and actually has the fleeting thought that this is a dream. Or maybe Watari has learned impressions and is doing a fantastic one of Kyoutani. 

But he looks up, and it definitely is Kyoutani talking, ears flaming pink and staring at his hands. 

“Oh.” Yahaba flounders to get his thoughts together over the sound of his frantic heartbeat. “It’s...okay. I’m sorry too. For making a big deal about it. I’m fine now, really, since you did that thing earlier today with Takashi and um, yeah.” he rambles. Yahaba likes to think that he’s usually pretty eloquent, but his language skills always seem to digress a few years around Kyoutani. 

I literally sound like a 13 year old, he laments internally.

Kyoutani grunts in acknowledgement, and Yahaba can’t help but smile a little. 

He feels lighter, with that load off his chest. 

But there’s still something he needs to make sure of: “Um...you didn’t believe what Takashi said, did you?” 

Kyoutani tilts his head. It’s adorable, and Yahaba pauses to remember what he was going to say next. 

“Uh-like, the stuff about me using you, and not...caring.” He struggles to say. This is mortifying. 

Kyoutani hums, a shadow of something passing through his eyes. “You are using me, though.”

He says it so seriously that it stuns Yahaba for a second. Wait, no! “But,” he protests, “not like-- that’s not how I ever thought about it, and I just--” 

Kyoutani snorts. “Calm down. It was a joke. I know. You’re shitty but not that shitty.” 

Hesitating, Yahaba bites back a smile. “Wow, thanks.” He still feels like there’s something that’s unsaid, though, so the smile fades as fast as it came. 

The bell rings, much to Yahaba’s dissatisfaction.

“Um--” He starts. Kyoutani looks at him.

Yahaba wants to ask what happens now. Kyoutani doesn’t have to pretend to date him anymore, but what changes now?

It’s not like they were a particularly showy couple. They never even went so far as holding hands. 

Does this mean that Kyoutani is going to stop sitting next to him in class? Does this mean that their captain-vice relationship is going back to what it was before, full of yelling and anger? Does this mean that he and Kyoutani are...over? 

No, but,they’re still friends, right? 

Oikawa’s words ring in his ears. Don’t be like me, Haba-chan. 

Yahaba wants to ask.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he asks, “Are you going to the animal shelter today?” 

Kyoutani side-eyes him. “Yeah.” 

He takes a breath. Looks away. “What about me?” 

“...Yeah.” 

Yahaba smiles to himself. 

“Okay.” 

They clean up in easy silence and split paths at the trash cans. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Yahaba gets a text from an unknown number.

>> You’re going to pay for that, you little shit.

Well. It sure wasn’t hard to guess who that was. Yahaba groans. As he thought, Takashi was still going to be a problem.

Somehow, though, the message doesn’t strike any fear in his heart. Knowing that he has so many people to support him makes the text message inconsequential, and Yahaba relishes the freedom in his palm. How refreshing.

Before he can think too hard about it, he snaps a screenshot and sends it to Kyoutani’s number, pausing briefly to tap out a caption. 

> guess who?

The little eye symbol pops up instantly, and Yahaba hides a smile. Kyoutani’s responding message pops up seconds later. 

>> he’ll regret that 

Yahaba fights back a grin. He’s so protective. Quickly, he shuts that train of thought down. Can’t let himself get too hopeful, now can he? “He’s probably just saying that to state a fact ,”  he reasons out loud to the mocking silence of his room.  

Yeah. Yahaba knows that he’s just bullshitting himself.

Fuck, I’m so whipped. 

It’s not even funny anymore. 

In fact, this whole “having feelings” and “fake dating” lost its hilarity a long while back, and Yahaba only has more and more questions as time passes. What are Kyoutani’s feelings? Is the fake-dating ruse over? Kyoutani had still welcomed him to the animal shelter yesterday, so Yahaba is confident that he is at least a friend, but…he sighs. 

He can’t lie to himself: it was fun being able to fool himself into thinking they might be something beyond friends, but all good things come to an end.

After all, Yahaba’s sick of not knowing where he stands with Kyoutani . He’s sick of living the in-between, the dreaded stage that his senior found himself trapped in. He’s sick of holding back, sick of doing things for someone else’s sake.

Just look at what had just happened with Takashi! 

If he’d just went to find support when Takashi began harassing him, instead of subconsciously trying to appease Takashi and resolve things “nicely,” maybe Yahaba would have saved himself a lot of pain. If he had just hunkered down and made a decision, took some action, been a little braver…

Yahaba’s tired of letting his fear run his life. 

So he’s going to do it. Fuck what everyone else says; fuck what everyone else wants. He’s going to talk to Kyoutani, and get some answers once and for all.  

Yahaba has never understood why movies always go on and on about getting ‘closure,’ but he thinks he’s starting to get it now. Closure is just the painful truth. The extinguishing of an illicit hope. Acceptance. 

That’s morbid, Yahaba admits. When Kyoutani shoots him down, even if all they can be is friends...well, Yahaba will be grateful for that. 

Ugh. 

Shaking his head and dealing a hefty smack to his own face, Yahaba whisks the covers off his legs and rolls off his bed, feet landing on the floor with a decisive thump. He lands so hard that something perched precariously on his bedside table tumbles off and lands on the ground pathetically.

A crinkled white envelope, bulging noticeably. With cash. A quiet breath of realization escapes him. 

Oh. The money. How could he have forgotten? 

This was the reason why Kyoutani had agreed to fake dating him in the first place. 

Yahaba swallows. Stares at the envelope. Then he bends down, slowly, picks it up, and slides it into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Right. 

***

There hasn’t been a good moment to talk to Kyoutani all day. The minute Yahaba got to school, Watari, bless his friend’s soul, began acting like a mother hen on steroids, refusing to leave Yahaba’s side and snarling at any poor soul who even had the same hairstyle as Takashi. 

Yahaba thought he’d get some space at lunch, but Oikawa had dragged the entire team out to his cozy, private lunch spot and ordered them to kneel down like knights (with the exception of himself, of course) in front of Yahaba and apologize for not noticing that he was having a hard time with Takashi. 

It’s not like Yahaba blames anybody other than himself (and Takashi, of course) for his situation, so he’d waved the apologies away and urged them to stand up from their embarrassing positions. Which they did, thankfully, but pointlessly, because what they didn’t do was actually leave . So he wasn’t able to talk to Kyoutani for the entirety of lunch, either. 

All Yahaba was able to manage was a moment of eye contact, after catching Kyoutani giving him a questioning look as everyone was packing up. He had desperately mouthed, ‘later.’ 

But later never came, because Kyoutani was driving a new first year to the shelter today and mentoring him (poor kid looked ready to piss his pants), which meant that Yahaba was faced with the impossible task of making the newbie feel comfortable around the (apparently) hostile ace. 

So when Yahaba finally, finally gets a chance to be alone with Kyoutani, it’s already late in the day, and he’s about to rip his hair out.

The sun is already low in the sky, lighting up the back of Kyoutani’s truck, Bee, as it pulls into Yahaba’s driveway and slows to a stop. Technically, the moment should be relaxed. Romantic, even, with the red and orange hues painting streaks across the sky...but Yahaba can’t get himself to feel it. 

Something about seeing Kyoutani’s tall bed-headed coworker fawning over his bottle-blonde friend at the shelter had made Yahaba’s throat go sour, as he was, once again, reminded of Oikawa’s words.

Yahaba doesn’t appreciate the almost poisonous effect they’ve had on him, as vines curl around his heart and cloud his mind. He barely even registers his own actions as he reaches for his seat belt buckle and clicks it open.

All he can think is, I have to talk to him. I have to talk to him. This hurts. I have to- 

He can’t even pay attention to the man in question, who’s mumbling softly about some dog he found in a corridor on the street two weeks ago, because Yahaba is just so busy agonizing, too deep in his head, too impatient and too scared and too unsure, so he just-- 

Snaps. 

“What are you doing?” Yahaba asks. Interrupts Kyoutani, who flinches, stops talking, and looks over.

The confusion written in his features ticks Yahaba off. Oh come on. 

“I know you know what I’m talking about. The elephant in the room.” 

Kyoutani just keeps staring at him, eyes dimming into something unreadable, waiting for him to say more. 

Fine. ““What are you still doing...with me?” Yahaba huffs, letting his tone turn sharp, succumbing to his defensive frustration. “There’s no more need. You’ve done your part. You helped me out. Takashi isn’t a problem anymore. So what now?” 

Kyoutani’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, and he responds slowly. “What do you mean, ‘what now’?” 

“Are we still fake dating?” Yahaba demands. 

Kyoutani’s eyes go wide. “Uh- You. I. Are we?” 

Yahaba throws his hands up. “Seriously? I just asked you. ” 

“Well- I dunno.” Kyoutani’s eyes narrow a smidge. The sunlight shifts and catches his eyes just right, causing his golden irises to glow. 

It takes Yahaba’s breath away, and he feels suffocated. 

He stares at Kyoutani, stubborn, unwilling to make a statement. What can he say, anyways? I don’t want to stop fake dating but I do because I want to date you for real? 

Yahaba’s throat constricts even further at the thought. 

He folds. “You know what? Here. Take it.” Yahaba reaches into his back pocket, feels for that bundle of cash that’s been burning a hole in him all day, and whips it at Kyoutani, who fumbles to catch it, making a noise of surprise. “There’s your answer. It’s over. Done.”

Kyoutani’s eyes flash. He takes a sharp breath in through his nose, draws his brows together, and opens his mouth, as if to say something back, to protest--

He closes his mouth. 

Second pass, and devastation seeps in. “That’s what you wanted, right?” Yahaba snaps, willing himself to stay angry. Anything but disappointment. 

Kyoutani just studies Yahaba with that unreadable expression, a jaw in his muscle twitching. 

That look is a thousand times more infuriating now, though, that Yahaba’s forcing himself to come to terms with the fact that yes, the deal was over, and no, Kyoutani hadn’t agreed to it for anything beyond the money and pity. 

Yahaba’s mouth just keeps running. “God, why did you even agree?” The fragile question tumbles out, and Yahaba slinks back into his seat. 

He doesn’t think that Kyoutani heard him, but a reply comes after a beat of silence. 

“You asked me to.” 

Yahaba snorts derisively. “You mean I paid you to.” He watches Kyoutani from the corner of his eye, defeated. 

Kyoutani’s lips thin into a line and he opens his mouth to say something, but snaps it shut just as fast. His eyes bore into Yahaba, willing something from him, but Yahaba doesn’t have the space to decipher the look.  

Instead, he feels a dull pang in his chest. “We’re just friends now. Okay? You can stop now.” 

Yahaba’s heart twists as Kyoutani moves slowly, slips the money packet into the pocket of his hoodie. “Thanks.” 

Of course.

Yahaba can’t bring himself to respond to that, so he just scoffs. The backs of his eyes are starting to heat up, so he turns away before they can gloss over, pulling at the handle of the truck. It’s still locked. 

“Can you.” Yahaba manages, proud that the two words come out steadily. 

“Oh.” A soft mechanical clicking sounds, and then Yahaba’s pushing the door open, welcoming the rush of air that sweeps over his eyes, grabbing his bag, and striding away with his head held high.

I’m so stupid. 

Should have known better than to think it was something more-

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You expected thi-

“Meet me outside at our spot t’morrow after school.” 

Yahaba’s heart stutters and his jaw drops to ask, ‘what?’, but by the time he turns around, the roar of the engine has long drowned him out, Kyoutani is backing out of his driveway, and within seconds, all that’s left is a cloud of dust. 

He didn’t imagine that, right? 

Hesitantly, Yahaba goes home, and dreams about what Kyoutani could possibly want from him. 

***

Yahaba doesn’t see Kyoutani all day. 

He’s almost fully convinced now, that he had just deluded himself into thinking that Kyoutani had said something to him yesterday, and he was really just a pathetic, desperate fool hopelessly in love with someone who didn’t give two shits about him. 

He says as much to Watari during lunch, to which he places a hand on Yahaba’s forehead and asks if he’s sick.

“Clearly you’re hallucinating if you think Kyoutani doesn’t give two shits about you.” Watari states, staring at Yahaba as if he’d suddenly sprouted a toe out of his eyeball. 

Yahaba just says nothing. 

Watari sighs and slaps him hard on the back. “Trust me, okay? You guys are good friends. Stop fucking around in that empty head of yours.” 

This gets Yahaba to glare. “My head is not empty.” 

Watari nods sagely. “You’re right. It’s full of shit.” 

Yahaba groans and leans over, shoving Watari hard. The small libero cackles and rolls away. Before Yahaba can begin a defensive soliloquy about why his feelings were one hundred percent valid and intelligent, a familiar voice from across the field calls out.

“Yahoo~! Haaaba-chan!” 

Watari cranes his head up and waves wildly while Yahaba groans. Oh god. I am so not in the mood for this right now. 

“Isn’t it just the most perfect day today?” Oikawa sings, flopping himself down gracefully next to Yahaba, running a hand through his hair and winking at nothing. A nearby circle of girls giggle loudly, presumably fangirling, and Yahaba groans even harder. Great, now the attention is on us. 

Well, specifically, it was on Oikawa, but since Yahaba was now in a ten-foot radius of the high school god, Yahaba was in the danger zone too. 

“Why would it be so perfect, Oikawa-san?” Yahaba replies, monotone. 

Oikawa grins. “Why, thank you for asking! You see, I found something out about Iwa-chan today.” 

Yahaba blinks, interest piqued. “Which is?” 

The 18 year old show-off pauses again to brush his hair to the side and look up dramatically. He takes a dramatic breath, chest puffing out. “I found out that he’s unequivocally, irreplaceably, absolutely, completely, utterly, unrelentingly, endlessly…

Yahaba’s fingers twitch. “Hurr-”

“-in love with me.” Oikawa finished proudly, throwing his hands up in the air. 

Silence falls. Watari stops moving. Yahaba gapes. 

“W-wait. Really?” He finally manages to say, mind moving a mile a minute to try and comprehend the gravity of Oikawa’s words. 

If Oikawa and Iwaizumi were dating...what did that mean about what Oikawa had said before, about not wanting to risk it? Did Oikawa manage to overcome his fear? Or was it Iwaizumi? 

Oikawa hums happily. “Would I lie about something as important as this, Haba-chan?” 

Yahaba lets out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Wow. That’s amazing, Oikawa-san.” He’s about to ask how Oikawa knows this when Watari finds his bearings. 

“Oh my God, finally !” He yells, jumping up from his spot and slapping Oikawa hard on the shoulder. 

“Ow, Wattachi, really? So violent.” 

“I’m so happy for you guys! God, you don’t know how hard it is to watch you two give each other those lovesick looks and act like a married couple without actually being a couple. Ugh, I feel so free!” 

Oikawa’s expression flips between embarrassed, affronted, and pleased. “I-” 

Yahaba pats Oikawa on the shoulder. “Congrats, senpai. You guys are dating now, right?”

Oikawa looks over at Yahaba, still seeming a bit overwhelmed. “Huh? Oh, yes, I’ve forever shackled Iwa-chan to being my personal lover-slave until I get tired of hi-OW!” 

A volleyball ricochets off the back of Oikawa’s head, and Yahaba flinches away at the impact. 

“Oi, shittykawa! What sort of bullshit are you spewing to our underclassmen, huh?” 

Yahaba stares as Iwaizumi sprints towards them at full steam. “Well, he sure looks the same…” 

Somewhere nearby, Watari bursts out laughing. “What a l-loving,” he gasps for breath, “boyfriend!” 

Oikawa rubs at the back of his head and swivels around to face his offender, gasping. “Rude, Iwa-chan! That hurt! I was just saying how you would be my personal slave for the rest of our lives, that’s it!” 

“What the fuck!? Don’t go spouting lies! I’ll never be your slave!” 

Yahaba shakes his head as the two continue to bicker, recovering. He should really be used to this by now. He was a fool to think anything would have changed between the two. Something about that knowledge comforted a small anxiety of his. They were still the same Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

“Wait, so you guys are dating right? That’s not also a joke?” Watari finally calms down enough to confirm, staring at them eagerly.

Oikawa huffs, turning his head away from Iwaizumi. “I don’t know, are we?” He pouts petulantly. 

Iwaizumi swats at the back of his head before turning to Watari. “Uh yeah, I guess.” 

Watari whoops loudly. “I gotta go tell the first years!” Iwaizumi’s eyes widen in alarm, but before he can say anything more, Watari leaps off the ground and dashes away. 

Yahaba can’t help but snort and watch as he disappears through the cafeteria doors. “Uh…he’s excited?” He offers to Iwaizumi, putting his hands up. 

 Iwaizumi gives him a half-smile. He opens his mouth, “Yo-” 

“What do you mean, ‘I guess’?” Oikawa snaps, out of the blue, looking back at his supposed boyfriend. “You’re the one who asked! What’s so ‘I guess’ about that?” 

Yahaba wisely says nothing, but tucks this information away. So Iwaizumi-san was the one who asked him out. Figures. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and puts his hands up. “It’s just a phrase, Oikawa, chill out.” 

Oikawa’s brows twitch down and he leans back, offended. “‘ Chill out’? You can’t just tell me to chi-” 

Smoothly, Iwaizumi reaches out, grabs the back of Oikawa’s neck, and pulls him forwards, swallowing whatever he was about to say next in a swift kiss. 

Yahaba blinks, stunned. Maybe he shouldn’t be watching this. Iwaizumi does know that he’s sitting right next to them, right? 

Just as quickly as it began, the kiss ends as Iwaizumi pulls away, sliding his hand off of Oikawa’s neck as he settles back into his spot. 

Oikawa remains frozen. Yahaba is sort of tempted to snap a picture. Frozen and silent? Moments like this don’t come very often for his captain. 

“Does that confirm it for you? There is nothing ‘I guess’ about us.” Iaizumi says slowly, smirking at his boyfriend. He waits for a second, but at Oikawa’s unresponsiveness, instead tilts his head and looks at Yahaba, a mischievous glint in his eye. “That will never get old. I can finally shut him up.”

Yahaba nods, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Uh...yeah.” Even with as much influence as Iwaizumi had on Oikawa, he wouldn’t be able to shut Oikawa up for any extended period of time.  

Oikawa recovers, spluttering. “H-hey! That’s not going to work forever, you know. I’ll get used to you!” Iwaizumi snorts, disbelieving. Yahaba smiles. It must be nice to have such confidence in the other person’s affections. 

At his partner’s reaction, Oikawa scoffs, offended. “Okay and why are you acting like I can’t do the same thing to you, huh?” 

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Because you can’t. You’re too chicken.” 

In response to that, Oikawa’s eyes flare with that terrifying competitive gleam that makes him such a dedicated player, and he lunges forwards. “Oh you will take that back, Iwaizumi Haji-”

Already knowing where this is going to go, Yahaba stands up hurriedly, brushing off his pants, grabbing what was left of his barely-touched lunch, and swinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Uh- I’ll leave you guys to it. Congrats.” He interrupts. 

He turns to leave, ready to escape their love-war, but Oikawa’s voice calls out. “Wait! Haba-chan! Remember what I said before?” Don’t be like me. Yahaba pauses and nods, and Oikawa continues seriously. “I hope... you’ve been thinking about that.” 

Yahaba smiles sardonically. “A little too much, Oikawa-san.” 

Oikawa sighs. “And? What’s your plan?”

Give it up. 

“...Not sure yet.” Yahaba shrugs. It’s a lie, but Oikawa doesn’t have to know that. 

The long pause after his answer tells Yahaba that Oikawa still, frustratingly, sees past him, and Oikawa says, “Haba-chan. It worked out for me. It’s going to work out for you, okay?” 

Yahaba can’t see Oikawa’s face, but the earnesty comes through. Iwaizumi hums his agreement. 

But even with their encouragement and lived example, Yahaba presses his lips together in doubt. He really wants to believe that he and Kyoutani can walk a similar path, but who is he kidding? Their situation is different. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are childhood best friends. And Oikawa sure as hell didn’t pay Iwaizumi to fake date him. 

Yahaba’s fingers tighten their grip on his backpack strap, feeling the material leaving an indent in his skin from the force. He says nothing, and walks away. 

***

Even though Yahaba wants to smack himself in the face for being so stupid, he still finds himself walking to his and Kyoutani’s spot when his last class ends. 

He knows that he’s just getting his hopes up. Kyoutani didn’t even come to school; in what circumstance could he still be waiting for Yahaba? It’s all a lost cause, but Yahaba can’t help but oblige the small, optimistic corner of his heart that just wishes... 

His feet slow down as he nears the corner and his heart starts to pound. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Yahaba mutters, annoyed at his instinctive reaction. “This is so stupid…” 

With renewed vigor, Yahaba steels his face into an expression of indifference (if he looks it then he must feel it, right?), turns the corner...

And runs straight into Kyoutani. 

“Oomph--” 

“Oi-” 

Yahaba would recognize that voice anywhere. He stumbles back, placing a hand on the wall beside him for stability. 

Kyoutani’s tense posture relaxes when he realizes who exactly walked into him. “Oh. You came.” 

Blinking the disorientation from his eyes, Yahaba stands up straighter, at a loss for words as he stares into Kyoutani’s eyes, mouth falling open. “Wh- wait.” 

For all of Yahaba’s high hopes, he hadn’t prepared himself to actually see Kyoutani. “You- you’re actually here.” 

Kyoutani lowers his eyebrows in an intimidating expression of what Yahaba now knows to be mere confusion. “I asked you t’ come, didn’t I?” 

Yahaba flushes red against his will. He juts his chin outwards, willing himself to have confidence, but he refuses to meet Kyoutani’s eyes. “I thought I imagined it.” 

The corner of Kyoutani’s lips twitch a millimeter, but Yahaba spots it clear as day. He glares. “Don’t laugh! You have no right.”

Obliging, Kyoutani’s face smooths back out into a careful neutral, and he studies Yahaba carefully. “So.” 

Yahaba blinks. Is he for real? “So?” He breathes in shakily, trying to expend his nervousness with his breath. “Why am I here?” He voices aloud. 

And then it’s Kyoutani’s turn to look away, leaning back further into the wall, glaring off into the ground, and when Yahaba studies him more closely, he notices that Kyoutani’s ears have turned pink. 

He’s...blushing? Why? 

“I thought. You, uh.” Kyoutani starts, low and gruff. His fingers clench, and Yahaba can’t help but be a little concerned. What could possibly be so hard to say? 

“You don’t have to push yourself..but what is it?” He probes gently. 

Noticing his shifted demeanor, and maybe even a little annoyed at the way Yahaba is coddling him, Kyoutani huffs. “Lemme restart. First, we’re friends, so stop actin’ like we’re not, okay?” 

Huh? Yahaba opens his mouth to argue something (he doesn’t even know what ) but Kyoutani isn’t done. 

“I didn’t do this whole...thing ‘cause of the money. You’re a fuckin’ idiot if you think I did. I didn’t even agree to this. Because. Y’know. Of the money.” 

Yahaba flinches, taken aback. “Wait, what? But you only said yes after I offered you--” 

Kyoutani cuts him off. “Just-- I didn’t, okay? That’s not why.” He groans. “You’ll get it. Soon.” 

Now Yahaba is more perplexed. “Kyou--” 

“Can you just be quiet for a few seconds?” Kyoutani grumbles at him, and Yahaba snaps his mouth shut. Geez. He didn’t have to put it like that. 

“Sorry. Look, I can tell--” Kyoutani stops to look away again and sighs shortly. “I can tell you’re doin’ that stupid thing where you get all in over your head. And overthink. So-- just, stop. Doing that to yourself.” 

Yahaba bites his lip in an effort not to retort. “Just stop?” It’s not that easy.

But still, it’s a relief to hear Kyoutani silence the fear that he’s had. They are friends, and it wasn’t all just for the money. 

Yahaba knows this. Somewhere deep down inside, he knows this, but...he also needed the validation. 

You can trust him, a part of Yahaba whispers to himself. The other part cautions himself not to get hurt.

Kyoutani steps forwards, and the movement pulls Yahaba out of his thoughts. The light shifts to just barely catch Kyoutani’s profile, and that’s when Yahaba notices what he’s wearing. Instead of his usual faded T-shirt and jeans, he’s… 

“Wait, why do you look so…” Yahaba trails off, trying to find the right word as they all die in his throat. 

Good? 

He can’t say that. 

“..Formal?” 

Kyoutani looks down at himself, surprised, as if he’s just remembered his attire. But when he looks back up, there’s something in his eyes that freezes Yahaba in his spot. 

“Uh. Can you do somethin’ for me?” 

A favor? Yahaba nods, slowly. He raises an eyebrow, prompting for more information. What could Kyoutani want from him? 

Kyoutani takes a breath, as if preparing himself, and Yahaba waits in agonizing anticipation. 

“So…” 

“I need you to date me.”

Chapter Text

What. 

Did he just?  

Yahaba is officially dreaming. There is no other explanation, no other possible explanation-- 

“Can you- can you repeat that?” He can’t help but ask, certain that he’s heard wrong. 

Kyoutani glowers at him, tips of his ears glowing firetruck red. “I’m not sayin’ that again, you fuckin’ jerk.” 

Okay, so Yahaba didn’t imagine it. 

But still, there’s no way, so he jumps to the next closest conclusion. “Wh- is this a joke? Har har, Kyouta-” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

Yahaba damn near chokes. 

Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s not a joke. Oh my god, what is happening right now what is happening--

Seconds pass as Yahaba remains silent and panicked, bewildered and unsure what to say because what can he say in a situation like this? All the while, Kyoutani’s watching him, waiting tensely, but Yahaba doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, he just doesn’t know and this is all too fast and-- 

Kyoutani takes his silence as something else. 

“Hell. This was stupid. Should’ve known.” He looks away, sighing harshly, not quite angry, not quite sad, but something in the middle-- something that, to Yahaba, instantly feels wrong. 

“Wait! Wait. Just wait.” Yahaba gets the words out, reaching and grabbing Kyoutani’s wrist before he leaves. 

This feels familiar. 

How come he’s always the one running after Kyoutani, pleading? Yahaba shakes himself out. “Just- what do you...mean? Can you elaborate?” 

Kyoutani scoffs derisively. “Elaborate? What’so confusing about what I said?” 

Yahaba stubbornly refuses to say anything more or relax the iron grip on his wrist, so Kyoutani sighs, longsuffering. “Fine. ‘S just-- there’s a fundraising event. For the shelter. ‘It’s gonna be 4 or 5 fucking hours long and thinking of going alone makes me wanna shoot myself, so.” 

Yahaba’s fingers falter, just a little bit, and Kyoutani shakes himself free. He sags a little bit, the exhilaration draining out of him as he realizes what Kyoutani was actually asking of him. “Oh. So you want me to come with you as a faux-date? Why didn’t you just say that then?” 

A corner of Kyoutani’s mouth twitches up in a scowl. “Faux? The hell are you talking about? And the fuck, I just did.” 

Why is he still being so aggressive? I already get it now. Yahaba huffs too, matching the other boy’s defensiveness. “You phrased it as..as dating! But it’s just a…” Yahaba waves his hands in the air. “A thing! An event!” 

Kyoutani is full on glaring now, disbelieving. 

Five hulking seconds pass by. 

“You could’ve just said you didn’t want to...date me, you know.” 

His thundering heartbeat returns in an instant, and Yahaba gapes. When did he ever say that? What? He rapidly replays his conversation with Kyoutani and tries his damndest to find where he ever rejected the sole person he was -probably- in love with, and comes up with nothing. 

“Wh- I- Huh?? I do-- ” Yahaba stops right there, horrified. Holy shit, he was just about to admit, out loud, that he wanted to date Kyoutani. He rushes to cover the slip-up, groaning a different truth out instead. “I’m so fucking confused.” 

Kyoutani crosses his arms, eyes darting everywhere but to Yahaba’s face. “Not as much as I am.” 

“Can you just- start from the beginning? What favor do you need from me?” 

Kyoutani gives him a long, hard look. Uncrosses his arms. Clenches his fists together. Unclenches them. 

Yahaba raises an eyebrow. 

“Forget it.” The spiker finally huffs, turning away swiftly and beginning to stride away.

“Wha-- hey! What the hell, stop doing that!” Yahaba lunges forwards again, fueled by a mixture of frustration and desperation, and latches onto the back of Kyoutani’s shirt.

“Will you stop grabbing me?” Kyoutani explodes, finally. 

“Only if you talk to me properly! This is why we never get anywhere!” 

“I tried! ” 

“No you didn’t! Just say it again, god!”

“What the hell, Shi-Yahaba! I just asked you out and the thought was so fuckin’ weird to you that you tried to bullshit it away as somethin’ else. Now will you just leave me the hell alone?” 

Yahaba only tightens his grip, momentum carried by the moment, rage loosening his tongue. “Well fuck you, too! After making me think that you only thought of me as a friend, if that, how the hell was I supposed to actually believe that you were asking me out? And you even used my line to ask me, where I asked you to fake date me! What was I supposed to think, huh? And you know I overthink a lot and talk too mu-” 

Kyoutani spins around, nearly throwing Yahaba, still attached to his back, to the side in the process. “C’mon, Shigeru. Just give me an answer already.”

Yahaba doesn’t even have to think before he blurts, 

“To what?” 

He regrets that statement immediately. 

Before Kyoutani can so much as twitch, Yahaba whips his free arm around to latch on to the other boy as well. “Wait no! God, I’m sorry, I- yes. Yes. That’s my answer. Okay? To whatever the fuck you’re asking me. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you.” 

Yahaba can’t believe how hard he’s breathing by the end of this, and when Kyoutani remains stock-still and wide-eyed for a few seconds, with no signs of intended movement, Yahaba slowly releases his grip on the other boy and brings his hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat furiously.

There. He said it. 

Oh my god. 

Shit. Holy shit. 

It all catches up to him, and Yahaba snaps his eyes up to search Kyoutani’s, palms sweating. “Uh-” 

“You mean it?” Those golden eyes pierce him. “You better mean it, or else, I swear-” 

“Do you?” Yahaba cuts him off, light-headed. 

“Yeah. ‘Course. I don’t- I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” 

“Oh thank god.” Yahaba lets out a huge sigh of relief and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Why are you so surprised?” He vaguely registers Kyoutani grumbling, but Yahaba doesn’t bother to reply, because his mind is busy racing to catch up with his emotions. Replaying, rethinking, realizing: 

“Wait, so- you like me?” 

Oops. 

Kyoutani physically flinches at the abrupt question, and Yahaba almost feels bad, but he’s so hungry for the answer that he doesn’t even care. 

“Why the fuck else would I ask you out?” Kyoutani turns his head, mumbles the next part. “Never done this shit for anyone else.” His words, though quiet, have the presence of a scream. Kyoutani’s gaze flickers back to Yahaba, cautiously, watching for a reaction. 

Yahaba can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. 

“Don’t.” Kyoutani warns, eyes fixated, which only causes the smile to grow wider. “You’re gonna make me-” He stops, giving up, and lifts a hand up to cover his own mouth. 

But Yahaba can’t help his uncontrolled, too-large, goofy smile, because what the hell, Kyoutani just said that he likes him, and this is definitely not what Yahaba thought he would be hearing when he woke up today. Waves of relief, surprise, and pure elation flood his senses one after another, each stronger than the next. 

“No don’t do that, come on, I wanna see.” Yahaba complains, partially serious, but partially stalling because he still doesn’t feel ready to say it back yet, and reaches out to pull Kyoutani’s hand away, exposing what’s probably the cutest smile he’s ever seen on any living human being. 

But he may be a little biased.

“Holy shit you’re adorable.”

Yahaba doesn’t mean to. It just comes out. 

He slaps a hand over his mouth immediately after, feeling his cheeks warm in embarrassment, and he wonders where the hell his filter has gone in the past five minutes. 

He doesn’t even need to confess in return, because his accidental outburst did it for him. 

Kyoutani stares, going a little pink himself. (His ears, Yahaba notices, are still bright red.) “Uh--” He coughs. “Than--so are y--...’st shut up.” 

Yahaba snickers, catching Kyoutani’s drift despite his blunders. “You tried.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You fuck off.” 

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Yahaba taking the time to give Kyoutani a slow appraisal, appreciating the clean dark jeans and the fit of his dress shirt. The outfit that he’d worn just to ask Yahaba out. 

The thought makes him giddy, and Yahaba cracks, breaking the staring contest barking out a loud laugh. “I hate you.” He says, fighting to keep his smile under control. 

Kyoutani gives him a rare smirk. “No you don’t.” 

Yahaba’s breath catches, and he thinks that Kyoutani is a million times more unfair now that he knows how Yahaba feels and really, how dare he take advantage of that? 

The mushy feeling inside gets too unbearable so Yahaba mumbles something about having to go and turns to leave, ready to scream into his pillow and pinch himself to make sure this whole thing isn’t a dream. 

“Saturday. 6pm.” 

Yahaba spins around. “Huh?” 

“The fundraising event. We’re s’posed to dress formal, but I honestly don’t give a shit if you do.”  

Oh right. He has a thing. With Kyoutani. He has a d-- Yahaba blinks. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Silence descends, but Kyoutani doesn’t look done, so Yahaba waits tensely. 

The other boy huffs. “Also, Kuroo and Kenma are going to be there. I know y’don’t. Uh- like them too much. But-” 

Yahaba interrupts. “Woah woah woah, wait what? I don’t dislike them at all!” 

Kyoutani raises an eyebrow, taken aback. “Oh. Y’just seem...annoyed at them. Before. Or somethin’.” 

Yahaba stares, touched that Kyoutani has noticed his, admittedly, disgruntled behavior around Kuroo and Kenma. But… “It’s not that I don’t like them.” Yahaba cringes at himself as he prepares to dish out the real reason.

“It’s just that they’re..very...couple-y.” 

And they had made Yahaba long for something that he didn’t have. That he has...now. Now. Wow. 

Kyoutani’s eyebrow arches higher and Yahaba blabbers on. “It’s just a stupid me thing, okay? Don’t question it. It’s fine now though.” 

Yahaba can practically see the gears turning in Kyoutani’s brain. 

“But they’re not...a couple?” Kyoutani is perceptive, but not so perceptive when it comes to certain things. 

Yahaba gives him a pitying look. “You would say that.” Come to think of it, this really explains a lot. 

Kyoutani just shakes his head. “Whatever.” 

Ready to move on, Yahaba opens his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitates. Kyoutani tilts his head. “So, uh-- is this a dat...you know?” 

He’s confused for a second, but then Kyoutani catches on. Yahaba gets a scathing glare and flushed pink ears. “Are you stupid?” 

So that’s a yes. Yahaba bites his lip to keep from smiling again. “Okay. Sorry.” He turns to leave again, before remembering-- “Wait, how do I get there?” 

He hears Kyoutani scoff. “Really? I’m picking you up. Don’t want you to get lost.”

Yahaba’s about to turn around, give Kyoutani a piece of his mind (he has a wonderful sense of direction, thank you very much , and that has nothing to do with why he still hasn’t gotten his license ), but decides against it. 

After all, he likes Bee. (And Kyoutani.)

“Okay. See you soon, Ky-” Right. “Kentarou.” 

~

From: Watari 

>> hey yahaba, you wanna get ramen for dinner w me tmrw??

>> ill treat for once

> sorry i can’t, busy!

>> np, whatcha up to? 

> i have a date

>> WHAT.

>> YAHABA WHAT WHAT WHAT

>> YAHABA U BETTER NOT HAVE ACCEPTED A DATE W SOME RANDO

>> WHO IS IT

> geez chill watari it’s not a random person

>> BUT YOU LIKE KYOUTANI

> i know

>> YAHABA. 

> what? :) 

>> …

>> you little shit. You have a date with kyoutani. Don’t you. 

> goodnight watari 

>> YAHABA COME BACK RN 

>> TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED

>> DUDE

>> DUDE WHAT THE FUCCKKCKFKKC

>> CHICKEN

>> ALSO CONGRATSCJCDSF

~

Yahaba’s so nervous he feels like vomiting the single sandwich he had for lunch. 

He wonders if Kyoutani is suffering similarly. He better be. 

Yahaba checks the digital clock on his wall for the tenth time in the past ten minutes, heart skipping a beat at the displayed “5:30.” Only half an hour to go. 

What was he supposed to be doing again? Oh, right. Getting ready. Yahaba looks down at himself, appraising his outfit. He owns a few suits from some various volleyball formal events, but he’s not even sure if they fit him that well any more. He also doesn’t know if Kyoutani’s going to wear a suit, because he can’t really picture Kyoutani in one, and he’s pretty sure the boy doesn’t even own one, and he doesn’t want to stand out next to Kyoutani. 

“This is so complicated,” he groans, and gives in, reaching for his phone and dialing the one person he always seems to rely on for advice.

The line rings for not even a second before it clicks, suspiciously fast. “Yaho~! You’ve reached Oikawa, how can I help you, Haba-chan?” 

“Oikawa-san, were you waiting for me to call?”

“I’d never do such a shameless thing, I was simply-” 

From the background, a gruff voice interjects, “He was waiting.” 

“-Iwa-chan! Why!?” 

Yahaba stifles an amused chuckle. Typical Oikawa. 

Oikawa huffs once into the receiver and clears his throat. “Anyways, how can I help? Is this a question about clothes, Haba-chan? It must be, Haba-chan has a subpar fashion sense at best. And you have to look good for your date with Mad Dog-chan, no?”

“Dammit, Watari,” Yahaba groans, unsurprised that news of his impending date had reached his senpai within 48 hours. 

Smugness practically seeps through the phone. “Well, am I right?” 

Yahaba concedes. “Yeah. I don’t know what to wear. He said it was a formal event but also that he didn’t care what I wore, but I don’t want to stand out next to him.” 

Oikawa titters. “A little birdie tells me-” 

“Don’t call me a fucking bird, shittykawa!” 

Yahaba snorts.

Nonsurplussed, Oikawa breezes on. “-that Mad Dog-chan will also be putting in the effort to look less like a low-grade heathen, so I think you should dress up to your heart’s content, Haba-chan!” 

Yahaba bites his lip, suppressing his smile. “Okay, I guess I will. So a suit then?” 

Oikawa’s excited energy practically vibrates through the line. “Yes, yes! You do have a suit that’s so hot it’ll make it hard to walk, right?” 

So hot it’ll make it hard to walk..? What does that- Oh. Yahaba chokes on air. 

Iwaizumi seems to think similarly, because his voice amps up. “Holy fuck, that’s nasty! I’m telling you, nobody says that, Shittykawa! It’s just vulgar!”

Oikawa’s voice muffles as he leans away from the receiver to respond, “As if you’re one to talk about being vulgar, Iwa-chan! Remind me, who was the one whispering things in my ear last ni-” 

Oh fuck no. Yahaba coughs loudly, desperately, into the receiver. “Oikawa-senpai! Back to my dilemma, please?”

There’s a few moments of dreadful scuffling, before Oikawa’s voice floats back through the phone. “Yes yes. About that suit?” 

Yahaba looks over the suits in his closet and grimaces. “I have a few, but they’re all probably too small…” 

Oikawa fakes a moment of thoughtfulness before gasping in delight. “In that case, why don’t I lend you a suit or two, Haba-chan? I’m a little taller, but my older suits should still fit quite nicely.” 

Chagrined, Yahaba struggles to respond. “How many suits do you even have?” 

Iwaizumi interrupts again. “More than he could ever need.” 

“How do you even have that kind of money?” Yahaba mutters, partially to himself, in awe. 

“I make a lot off this model-worthy face, don’t you know, Haba-chan?” Oikawa’s tone drips syrupy sweet. 

As Yahaba scrunches his nose and fights off a conflicting wave of jealousy at the statement, the third-year couple begins bickering again.  

“Don’t call your own face model-worthy, that’s disgusting.” 

“You’re the one who fell for it!”

“The last thing I would fall for is your face, asshole!” 

“Well, Iwa-chan is just jealous because his face scares little children.” 

“Say that again, I dare you!” 

Yahaba sighs deeply. “Oikawa-senpai, is there even enough time for me to come get these suits of yours?”

“Why, you don’t have to do that! Just check your front door.” 

It takes Yahaba a few seconds to understand the implications of that sentence, but when he does, he splutters, flabbergasted. “Seriously? You already dropped them off ?” 

Oikawa makes a self-assured noise. “I’m truly a miraculous, well-prepared senpai, right?” 

Yahaba hears a whack. “Or just a presumptuous asshole.” 

“Iwa-chan, we really need to do something about all this name-calling!” 

Another whack.

“And the violence! Honestly, I can’t get any pea-” 

Yahaba hangs up. He’s running out of time and if his past experiences have taught him anything, it’s that Iwaizumi and Oikawa could go on forever . Even if their performances are entertaining.

Tossing his phone on his bed, Yahaba hurries downstairs to his front door and opens it to find a brown box on his doorstep. Oikawa wasn’t kidding after all. He brings it inside, back up to his room, and, albeit a little apprehensively, opens it up. 

Inside lay two suits, one slate grey and one a light beige. Yahaba’s a little surprised; he thought for sure Oikawa would have given him a black suit. But he finds that he likes these colors a lot more. 

“Thanks, Oikawa-senpai,” he mumbles under his breath as he gingerly takes the suits out and changes into them. 

He’s just barely decided on the grey one when the doorbell rings, immediately kickstarting his heartbeat. 

This is really happening. Oh my god. 

Palms sweating, he jogs down the steps. He’s just reached the bottom step when he realizes that in his nervousness, he’s forgotten his phone on his bed. “Oh god,” he mutters, turning a 180 to jog back up and grab it. 

“Get a grip,” he chants to himself as he heads down the stairs for the second time. The doorbell rings again, impatiently, three consecutive chimes. 

“Alright alright, chill,” he starts as he pulls the door open, trying his best to mask the shakiness in his voice, and is promptly hit in the face with a plastic bag. “Ow!” 

“Shit.” Kyoutani’s voice comes from somewhere behind the plastic. 

The bag is lowered, and Kyoutani’s face comes into view, looking ever so slightly unapologetic. “I was gonna knock. In case, y’know. Doorbell wasn’t working.” 

“Oh don’t worry, the doorbell is definitely working,” Yahaba retorts, a little too loudly, while taking note of Kyoutani’s outfit. A suit jacket and pants, just like him, but Kyoutani had opted for a more casual white shirt. 

His eyes eventually wander back to Kyoutani’s face, just to find that Kyoutani’s looking at him too, and Yahaba squeaks. “Uh-” He coughs. “No vest?” Yahaba teases, in hopes of gaining some semblance of control back. 

Kyoutani looks away. “Uncomfortable.” 

Yahaba nods in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I get that.” 

And they’re back to silence. Yahaba could cut the tension with a knife, he swears. His nerves feel frayed, but in a good way, as if he’s suddenly more sensitive to everything around him. Even the wind whistling through his hair seems bolder than usual. 

“Um, so, what I’m wearing is fine, right? We won’t get kicked out or anything?” 

Kyoutani nods, eyes darting from random points to Yahaba’s face to back out again. “‘S fine.” 

Yahaba nods too, awkwardly, eyes lowering...to catch on the bag, once again. “Oh, yeah! What’s in the bag, huh?” And because he doesn’t know when to stop, he says, “Not murder weapons, right? I knew this was all just an elaborate plan to get me in the back of your truck so you could drive off to some far away mountain range and stab-” 

“You watch too much crime,” Kyoutani interrupts gruffly, and shakes the bag a little. “It’s, uh. Cake.” 

Yahaba blinks. “Cake?” 

Kyoutani huffs. “Yeah. ‘S a gift. Y’know. Like flowers, ‘cept I wouldn’t be caught dead in a flower shop, so. You get cake.”

That’s so fucking cute. Yahaba doesn’t even know what to say, but his blooming grin speaks for him. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Kyoutani retorts. He’s still having trouble meeting Yahaba’s eyes, but the telltale sign of his reddenning ears is enough to clue Yahaba in to what he’s feeling. “What? If y’ don’t want it, I’ll just-” 

“No! I want it! Gimme.” Yahaba snatches the plastic bag away as cautiously as he can and clutches it close to his body. “Cake is better than flowers, anyway.” 

At this, Kyoutani finally meets his eyes. “Exactly.” He smiles a small, adorable smile, and Yahaba fights the urge to jump him right there.

“Um,” Yahaba clears his throat. “Let me just put this away then we can leave, okay?” 

Kyoutani nods. 

“What flavor is it?” Yahaba vaguely remembers having a conversation with Kyoutani about his favorite desserts during the animal shelter, but he doubts that Kyoutani even remembers what he said. It was just one of their many small conversations, after all--

“Your favorite.” 

Yahaba’s eyes widen. “Oh- you remembered?” 

Kyoutani looks away, again. “Who’d forget such a boring favorite?” 

As his heart threatens to burst, Yahaba gasps in mock offense. “Boring? Vanilla isn’t boring, asshole!” 

Kyoutani snorts. “Yeah it is.” 

“It’s original! It’s a classic ! It’s so good! ” 

“Chocolate too.” 

“No, chocolate is inferior.” 

Kyoutani scoffs again and shakes his head. “Shut up and hurry up.” 

“Alright, alright, geez…” Yahaba heads back into the house and makes quick work of putting the cake in the fridge, smiling to himself. He feels as if he’s floating, almost, and almost thanks gravity for keeping him on the ground. 

He leaves the house with Kyoutani, locking the door, walking over to Bee and hopping in, all while making small talk. 

The car starts, rumbling to life, and just like that, Yahaba’s officially on his...date (he still can’t believe it, what the hell) with Kyoutani. 

“Who would’ve thought?” He mumbles to himself as Kyoutani backs out of his driveway. 

“What?” 

“Oh, you know. That this would be happening.” 

Kyoutani casts him a side glance, but says nothing.

Yahaba licks his lips. “Hey, when did you..start?” He’s too scared to ask what he wants to know in full, and he prays that Kyoutani catches his drift.

He doesn’t. 

“Start what?” 

Yahaba huffs. “You know. Liking...me.” 

Kyoutani makes a little choked noise, and Yahaba knows he’s caught him off guard. “Uh-I…” 

Yahaba rushes to cover. “Sorry that was so random! I just-- want to know if it was before the whole fake dating thing, or, you know...after.” 

There’s a few beats of silence before Kyoutani speaks again, quietly. “Before.” Wait, really? Before? How long before? Yahaba opens his mouth to ask, but Kyoutani beats him to it. “Probably ever since I came back to the team. I dunno. I dunno the exact time.” 

Yahaba bites his lip, insides feeling fluttery. He just doesn’t get it, though. They didn’t even talk back then, well, not much, anyway. “I...but why? Why me?” 

Another agonizing silence, then, “I dunno.” 

Yahaba splutters out the air clogged in his lungs. “How can you not know?” He whines. 

“I- I just don’t! ‘S probably a lot of reasons, kay? I just...couldn’t stop lookin’ at you! Or hearing you talk, whenever you said anything! And wanting t’touch your stupid hair!” 

Kyoutani stops to take a breath. Yahaba catches his breath; “Kent-” 

“And then it only got worse when you actually started talking t’me, ‘cause then it was so hard to j’st tell my heart to shut the fuck up since y’were there all the time! Couldn’t even think properly-- I- And- God, why don’t y’ask yourself why you’re so captivating, huh?” 

I’m...what? 

Yahaba’s stunned still, his emotions swirling a storm inside of him. 

“Fuck.” Kyoutani mutters, embarrassment coloring the word. “I just..do, okay?” He clears his throat, low and shy. “...Don’t get why anybody wouldn’t.” 

Yahaba inhales a staggered breath. “I...oh. Um.”

He wants to say something, anything, to express how he feels like crying, because here is this beautiful person who wanted --no, wants -- him so much. Who thinks of him as something captivating. 

Yahaba isn’t captivating. He’s normal. He has problems. He isn’t even an amazing person. He’s not Oikawa, he’s not-

But...Kyoutani thinks he is. 

And right now, that’s enough to make him feel bright. For the first time, he thinks he understands the warmth of being someone else’s star. 

“..You don’t have t’say anything, y’know.” 

Yahaba just nods with a watery smile, and hopes that Kyoutani understands the depth of his emotions. 

“What about...you?”

Surprised, Yahaba glances at Kyoutani, but of course, he’s not looking at him. Yahaba can’t help but smile softly at that. 

“Um...I think there was definitely something before the whole fake dating thing, because, I mean...why else would I ask you ? I could have asked Watari, you know? It would have been easier, but I couldn’t picture myself being in a relationship, fake or not, with anyone else, so…” 

Yahaba bites his lip. “Maybe subconsciously my brain just really wanted to get to know you better, so I concocted this irrational plan. I should have just reported Takashi from the start, but I guess I sort of used him for this…” 

Kyoutani snorts. “Calculating as always, captain.” 

Captain..? It was...weird. Being called that. “I’m not captain yet!” Yahaba manages to retort. 

“But um, yeah...I think you described it pretty well. I didn’t realize I...uh, liked, you, I guess, but I’d already thought of you as different from other people.” 

Yahaba coughs, feeling his own blush start to flare in his cheeks. “But I guess I really realized the day Takashi first approached us during class...do you remember that?” 

“Yea.” 

Yahaba smiles to himself. “That really surprised me. I mean, that you sort of just...went with my stupid plan and told everyone we were dating.” 

“...Well that’s what y’told me to do, so why the hell is that surprising?” There’s an edge to Kyoutani’s voice, and Yahaba fights the urge to giggle. 

“Chill, no need to get so defensive! I was just surprised. I thought I was dreaming the whole thing…” 

“You’re stupid.” Kyoutani interjects, curtly. A quick glance is enough to confirm that Kyoutani’s whole face is red. 

Yahaba gasps. “Shut up, you’re just embarrassed!” 

“I’m not embarrassed!” 

Yahaba watches Kyoutani’s fingers twitch around the steering wheel. Sure you aren’t. “Well you asked me about how much I liked you so now I’m telling you!”  

“I didn’t ask!”

Yahaba splutters, laughing inside. “Okay, fine, then I won’t tell you any more.” He crosses his arms dramatically and turns his head away from Kyoutani to stare out the window with finality.

A silence descends and Yahaba waits, knowing that Kyoutani would cave at some point. 

“Keep talking.” 

Yahaba bites his lip to keep from smiling. “Oh no no,” he chides, sounding like Oikawa, “You missed your chance.”

“Shigeru.” 

Fighting a shiver, Yahaba barely manages to hold onto his resolve. “No.” 

Kyoutani pouts silently, before uttering a, “Damn.” 

Yahaba relaxes back into the seat, cheeks beginning to tire from his constant smiling. “We’re going to be just as bad as Oikawa and Iwaizumi, huh?” 

Kyoutani scoffs. “We’re nothing like them. They’re annoying as fuck.” 

Kyoutani, talking ill of his admired senpai? Yahaba arches an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you looked up to Iwaizumi.” 

“Well, yeah, but not when he’s around that princess twig.” 

Yahaba tries, but he can’t hold back the loud laugh that escapes him then. “Did you just call Oikawa-san a princess twig?” 

Kyoutani grunts in affirmation. 

Still chuckling, Yahaba follows up. “So what am I then, a princess woodchip?” When Kyoutani doesn’t respond, doesn’t laugh, Yahaba realizes too late how vulnerable the supposed joke sounds. “Um-” 

“No, you’re Yahaba.” 

For what seems like the millionth time, Yahaba is struck by a million emotions and is robbed of his words. 

“You’re Yahaba.” 

It’s so simple, but in the present context, and coming from Kyoutani…

Those two words mean everything. 

The car slows and shudders to a stop. With a start, Yahaba realizes that they’re in the same familiar parking lot that they’ve been frequenting, together, for the past few weeks.

“C’mon. We’re here.”

Chapter Text

“Well, well,” a dramatic breath, “ well . What do? We have here? Kyou-bro, you finally asked your little setter boyfriend on a real date?” 

Wait . ‘Finally’? 

How does he kno- Yahaba shakes the thought away. Over the weeks of getting to know Kuroo, he isn’t one bit surprised that Kuroo had seen through their shabby disguise. 

Probably even from day one, if Yahaba is being honest with himself.

But still...did he really have to make that comment now ? It hasn’t even been a second since we walked in the door, Yahaba bemoans internally, already resigning himself to a night full of embarrassments. Vaguely, he registers how fancy the interior of the shelter looks for this event, all glowing lights and clothed tables.  

Kyoutani’s grip tightens around Yahaba’s wrist and he shuffles ever-so-slightly closer, and Yahaba’s heart jumps. Cute. “Do you ever shut the fuck up, Kuroo?”

Amused, Yahaba takes over, twisting his wrist out of Kyoutani’s grip just to turn it around and properly interlock their fingers. He doesn’t turn to watch Kyoutani’s reaction, but he hears a sharp inhale, and practically feels a surprised stare boring into him.

Yahaba looks Kuroo in the eye and smiles, saccharine sweet. “He did, actually. I assume you’ve done the same with your little setter?” 

Kuroo’s eyes widen a fraction, fleeting surprise crossing his dark pupils before they relax into something close to satisfied pride. “Wow. My congratulations to the two of ya, then.” 

Yahaba smiles again, nods, and waits. 

“As for your question, Yahaba, I am in fact here on a date with Kenma.” Kuroo glances around, and upon finding nothing, sighs affectionately. “Though he’s probably hiding in a corner somewhere on his phone.” 

Unsurprised, Yahaba nods. He opens his mouth to reply, looking for a way to politely excuse himself and Kyoutani from Kuroo, when Kyoutani abruptly speaks up.

“Wait, what the fuck, you two’re dating?” 

Kuroo offers a magnanimous smile, mischievous glint in his eye. “You didn’t know? My, how oblivious.” 

At that, Kyoutani sputters and fumes in silence, while Yahaba fights back a snort. “I told you,” Yahaba mutters under his breath, unable to resist, but Kyoutani hears him anyway and elbows him. Judging from Kuroo’s increasingly amused expression, the Nekoma captain had overheard as well. 

“Can’t fucking believe it.” Kyoutani huffs. 

“You really had no idea?” Yahaba has to ask, still a little incredulous that Kyoutani could possibly have missed the hints. Even in the limited times that Yahaba had been able to watch Kuroo and Kenma interact, while it was strictly platonic (they were in a professional setting, after all), there were clear signs of intimacy beyond the friend status.

Once, while they were all on their lunch break, Kenma had wandered over to where Kuroo was sitting and perched himself directly on his lap without even glancing up from his phone. Kuroo had looked completely comfortable with the action, too, and merely began to make tiny braids in Kenma’s hair. The whole scene was so disgustingly domestic and made Yahaba’s heart ache so bad that Yahaba had nearly drawn blood with how hard he bit his lip to keep from yelling, “not fair!”. 

Yahaba remembers glancing over at Kyoutani, then, to find him watching the same scene with a blank stare. 

Kyoutani shook his head, glaring at Yahaba. “You could’ve said somethin’.” 

Yahaba would have thrown his hands up if it didn’t mean letting go of Kyoutani’s hands. But it does, so he merely widens his eyes in a disbelieving stare and shakes his head violently. “I did! Like ten times! You didn’t believe me!” 

“Like hell!” 

“Literally twenty minutes ago I said-” 

“Now now, it doesn’t really matter.” Kuroo steps in, hands out in a placating gesture. “Point is, Kenma and I are a thing, though it was pretty ambiguous until recently.” 

Kyoutani grunts, and gives a grudging, “congratulations, then.” 

“Thanks,” is Kuroo’s easy reply. Then, with a feline smirk, he says, “Well, I won’t interrupt your first date . Enjoy, lovebirds.” With that and a turn of his back, he’s gone. 

“He really has a special...vibe, doesn’t he?” Yahaba comments, fighting the blush on his cheeks. 

“Slippery bastard vibe.” 

Yahaba snorts. “Shut up, you like him, I can tell.” 

“...Still a slippery bastard.” 

Smiling, Yahaba dismisses the comment and starts to walk deeper into the venue, eyes sweeping the room in awe. The animal rooms haven’t been touched, but the rest of the shelter is decked out, complete with ambient lights, streamers, banners, candles, and bouquets. “So what is this whole thing about, anyways?” Yahaba asks. 

Kyoutani takes a second to step closer, catching up with Yahaba’s increasing pace. “Slow down, we have the rest of the fuckin’ night to see this shit. And it’s fundraising for the animals.” 

“I know that much,” Yahaba huffs, and slows his pace. Kyoutani’s right, after all. No need to see everything within the first ten minutes. “But is it like, an auction--” 

“The fuck, Shigeru, what would they auction?” 

“I don’t know, the animals?” 

“It’s a shelter, you can get the animals for free .” 

Yahaba throws his hands up. “Okay, obviously not an auction, but like, who’s the intended audience here? Big companies? Why would it matter that we’re here, huh?” 

Kyoutani holds a hand out, halting Yahaba in his tracks. Yahaba’s taken aback before he sees Kyoutani reach out to the table they’ve stopped in front of and pick up a few sheets of paper-- oh, they’re name tags. “Here.” Kyoutani says, shoving one of the papers into Yahaba’s chest.

Taking it, and finding his own name, Yahaba feels the need to fill the silence. “Wow, I even get a personalized sticker,” Yahaba remarks under his breath for absolutely no reason . It comes out vaguely sarcastic, but he doesn’t mean it to be. 

“Wow.” Kyoutani parrots, deadpan. 

“Sh-shut up, I’m nervous, okay?” And he is, his palms are sweaty and he has a phantom itch at the back of his leg that he knows he wouldn’t be able to itch through the thick fabric of the suit. 

Kyoutani glances at him, golden eyes thoughtful. “...Me too. But, uh. Don’t be.” 

Yahaba smiles, and retorts with a light punch, “Easier said than done.” 

“Yea.” 

They step away from the name tag table, thanking the volunteer behind the booth as they do. Well, Yahaba thanks her. Kyoutani just offers her an awkward jerk of his head. 

“So I guess we’re here since we’re volunteers? But I’m not an official one, so that wouldn’t make sense… ” Yahaba continues his previous question, thinking aloud as he continues to peruse the tables, more slowly than before. 

Kyoutani stops, so he stops too, just in time to catch Kyoutani giving him the stink eye. “Stop overthinkin’ it already.”

“Wha--” Slightly offended, and put off by the sudden aggression, Yahaba stops walking. Did he say something wrong again? “I was just curious!” 

Sensing Yahaba’s apprehension, Kyoutani huffs and turns his head away. “Sorry. ‘S just...you’ll see, alright?” 

Yahaba’s about to open his mouth to protest against more secrets, but as if on cue, the lights flare bright, and the speakers around the room begin to blare. 

“Welcome everyone, and thank you all for coming to the shelter’s fundraising event.” Protest forgotten, Yahaba and Kyoutani turn to glance along with the crowd, towards the clothed stage at the front of the room. A lady in a knee-length blue gown brandishes a microphone, and Yahaba vaguely recognizes her as one of the managers that stopped in once or twice during Kyoutani’s shifts. 

“First and foremost, we give our gratitude to our gracious sponsors, Mike and Ike, as well as...” 

Yahaba crinkles his nose and leans closer to Kyoutani. As he does, he feels the warmth emanating from his body and smiles a little. He’s sure that his own body isn’t nearly as warm. “Mike and Ike? Like the candy?”

Kyoutani turns to look at him and their noses nearly brush. Startled, Yahaba leans back a little. “Uh- What, no. The dog treat manufacturer.” 

Yahaba crinkles his nose even further. “I’m never eating Mike and Ike again.” 

Somebody next to them makes a shushing noise and Yahaba shrinks back, whispering a random apology. Kyoutani glares in the direction of the noise, but shuts his mouth anyways. 

“..And I would also like to thank our amazing volunteers, who pour their hearts, energy, and time into helping more animals find a home. They are also the ones that made this event possible, so let’s hear a big round of applause for them!” 

And because Yahaba would never pass up an opportunity to embarrass Kyoutani, Yahaba grins and starts to clap like a madman. Immediately, the spiker glares at him in embarrassment as he continues gleefully, and the spokesperson begins to list off the names of each volunteer. 

Once she announces Kyoutani’s name, Yahaba lets out a loud, obnoxious cheer and punches his partner in the arm with gusto. “That’s you, you dumbass jerk!” 

“The fuck-” Kyoutani hisses, clutching his arm. 

He glares, but Yahaba can see the repressed smile and, well...his eyes are positively glowing. 

“Last but not least, we want to thank our generous donors, from order of greatest to least donation.” 

She starts to read, and Yahaba tunes out, because the names are completely foreign and honestly, irrelevant to him. 

As the syllables blend together, he starts to think about other things. Things like, isn’t it crazy how his impression of Kyoutani went from this gruff tough guy to this soft-hearted shy guy, and isn’t it crazy how this soft-hearted shy guy actually likes someone like Yahaba. 

He thinks about how he’s actually slightly grateful to Takashi, in a twisted, twisted way, for being a means of getting closer to Kyoutani. 

He thinks about Oikawa, too, and the complicated role that Oikawa takes on as his senpai, someone that Yahaba admires, and strives to learn from, but also envies, and feels inferior to. He thinks about how he used Oikawa’s personal feelings, his life, so different from Yahaba’s, as an excuse to run from his own. 

He thinks about how far he’s come— has he come a long way? Has he come any ways at all? How can he know, when self-improvement is such a fickle thing to measure? 

And then he shakes his head, because god, does he do a lot of thinking. Too much thinking, and he’ll probably never change that about himself, but—

“Yahaba Shigeru, 10,000 yen. Matched to 20,000. Thank you for your service.”  

Yanked out of his thoughts, he’s suddenly listening again, his senses chasing after the words just fallen. 

…What?

Over the roar in his ears, he turns his head, hoping to understand, as his brain struggles to process his own name, up there, and that number, that sum.

10,000 yen.

Why, it’s the same sum that he offered…

Kyoutani is stoutly not looking at him.

He’s looking away, his ears are tomato red, and Yahaba knows exactly what happened. 

For a few seconds, Yahaba just stands there. He doesn’t even think. He just stands, and feels. Tears up a little bit, and swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He should have known. He should have guessed, by now, that Kyoutani would never act in any other way than selflessly, for the service of what and who he loves. 

Yeah. This…it all makes sense. 

There isn’t a more perfect way to use that money. 

There isn’t a more perfect person than Kyoutani.

Another wave of emotion rolls through his gut, and his throat clenches, so instead of saying something, he steps forwards, red nose and watery eyes, and reaches out, barely having time to see surprised golden eyes before he’s crushing himself into Kyoutani’s body.

Kyoutani stands stiff for a moment before relaxing, practically melting with relief. His arms come up, hesitantly and awkwardly, around Yahaba’s waist, grip so light Yahaba can barely feel them. 

Careful. Always so careful with Yahaba.

So Yahaba buries his head deeper in Kyoutani’s neck, tightens his arms, and hopes that all the feelings he doesn’t know how to express reach Kyoutani, anyways. 

And for once, Kyoutani speaks first. 

“I- this event is volunteers and, y’know, donors only.” He clears his throat, and the motion shakes Yahaba. “I thought you’d wanna come, ‘s all.” 

Kyoutani can pretend to downplay what he’s just done all he wants, but Yahaba knows it’s all a bluff. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to just how thoughtful and caring Kyoutani is deep down behind all the fronts he puts up. 

Yahaba snorts a little, murmurs, “You’re so stupid.” But it comes out so warm, so full of love , that the impact is effectively lost. 

Kyoutani just hums, contentedly, and Yahaba revels in the embrace for another second before stepping back slowly, self-consciousness seeping back into his peripheral. He shakes off the lingering glances that people around them are giving him and Kyoutani, and tries to focus back on what actually matters. Who actually matters.

He waits for Kyoutani’s eyes to stop darting around, and to meet Yahaba’s. His gaze is skittish, but determined. 

So Yahaba gives Kyoutani his best smile. Not the blinding one he reserves for the first years when they need encouragement, and not the dull one he plasters on for his teachers. Not the sarcastic one, not the melancholic one. Just...pure sincerity, from the bottom of his heart. 

He says, “Thank you, Kentarou.” 

And Kyoutani smiles back. 

~

Later, on the car ride home, Yahaba leans his seat back and curls up quietly, eyes fixed on the setting sun, tucked away behind the mountains just far enough to create that sunset magenta hue. 

“Is this real life?” He murmurs, thoughtlessly. 

After all, the color is so breathtaking it seems fake. A constructed lie, born from reality’s desire.

Just like he and Kyoutani had been, not even a week ago.

“ ‘Course it is.” Kyoutani replies, straightforward and short. “‘S real, Shigeru.” 

The way he says ‘it’s real’, almost sounds like ‘surreal’. 

But Yahaba is coming to learn that what is real can be surreal. His fingers, wrapped around Kyoutani’s palm, feel surreal. The faint ache in his cheeks, from smiling too much, feels phantom and strange. The weight of his heart, impossibly light, lighter than it’s ever been. 

I finally made it. 

No, he thinks. That sounds wrong. Incomplete.

We made it.