Chapter Text
Nothing special was going on. No student events. Nothing he should be contacted about. It wasn’t even Valentine’s Day. It was just… a day.
So what the hell was this?
On the door of the clubroom was a letter, addressed to one Tsukishima Kei. The characters were stiff. It looked less like they’d been written, and more like they’d been carved into the paper. He had no idea who it could be from.
He did know, however, that he was late for volleyball practise, and that it wouldn’t be wise to stall any longer. Pocketing the letter, he scraped off bluetack used to stick it to the door. What idiot used bluetack instead of sellotape?
Finally, Tsukishima entered the long empty room, and got ready for practise. He pushed the letter out of his mind, and walked languidly to the hall, where he received an annoying berating from several team members.
“Oh!” Yamaguchi piped up once Tsukishima was free. “Tsukki, did you get the note on the door?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Tsukishima mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at Yamaguchi. “Why, did you put it there? Did you break your phone or something?”
“No, no!” Yamaguchi waved his hands in a show of innocence. “I just wanted to know what it said.”
“Oh, I haven’t read it yet.” Tsukishima informed him, inwardly sighing at the idea of anybody other than Yamaguchi trying to contact him. Even Yamaguchi himself could be annoying at times.
“Why not? What’d you do with it?”
“It’s in my pocket.” He said. “In the clubroom. And I was late enough already - I didn’t want the king beheading me just because I read a stupid note.”
“Hmm, fair enough.” They left it at that, and went to join in with the club’s activities.
It was normal. At least, as normal as it could be when you’re doing it with a few too many completely unpredictable teammates. Though, Tsukishima couldn’t brush off the feeling of an intense gaze on him.
Tsukishima was hungry, sweaty, and more than glad to finally be back in the clubroom, getting ready to leave. Of course, it was just like his teammates to ruin that.
“Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki!”
He just hadn’t expected who it’d be.
“Yamaguchi, shut up.”
“Sorry, Tsukki! But nope - we’re back in the clubroom, so you can open the note! I wanna know what it says.”
Tsukishima sighed, glaring at Yamaguchi. Of course he hadn’t forgotten. “No.”
“Why not?” He whined, clearly trying to annoy the answer out of Tsukishima. He’d used this tactic before. It was ignored.
“I want to go home first,” Tsukishima lied. He didn’t want to open it at all. “You know, so I can take a shower first, stuff like that.”
Yamaguchi rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by their upperclassman, Nishinoya. “No, no, no, we wanna know too!” Tanaka nodded in agreement, confirming the ‘we’.
Even Sugawara wouldn’t let him off. “You can’t keep secrets from your dear upperclassmen,Tsukishima,” he chimed, looking overly pleased with himself.
Having received an abundance of sudden support, Yamaguchi continued prodding at Tsukishima, insisting that it’ll ‘only take a minute!’ You don’t say , Tsukishima thought. It wasn’t like somebody had sent him the terms and conditions to a new suspicious looking app or something.
Eventually, he gave in - not for his teammates, but rather to get himself home in time for dinner.
He opened the letter carefully, shuffling to the corner of the room so that nobody could sneak a peek at the contents.
It appeared to be a letter of confession, if the smiley faces and hearts littered around the page were anything to go by.
Okay. Okay. Not what he was expecting, but he supposed it wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed his mind. He started to read.
It was strange. The handwriting was far different from the writing on the envelope. Perhaps somebody else had written that, because they didn’t want outsiders to recognise it. Tsukishima thought the effort was worth it, because he found he vaguely recognised the handwriting. He couldn’t quite put his finger on who it belonged to, though.
The characters in the letter became progressively smaller and more squished together, the author presumably having realised they were running out of space. Despite himself, Tsukishima felt his heart warm a little. The fact that somebody could think so highly of him, despite his many - quite obvious, he felt - flaws, was very flattering. It was certainly more thoughtful than any other confession he’d received, and he almost felt it was a shame to have to let them down. Though they did put a strange amount of emphasis on his height.
And then he reached the bottom.
Two words. Two words that left him confused, and almost angry. He didn’t understand. What was this? A joke?
‘Hinata Shōyō.’
His breathing became heavier, but he forced himself to calm down, even if it meant holding it. He couldn’t take his eyes off the note. Wouldn’t dare, because that meant he would be able to see Hinata Shōyō himself, standing only a metre away.
But alas, he was forced to, as Yamaguchi darted his arm out to grab the note. Instinctively, Tsukishima pulled it back in defence, just out of his reach. Tsukishima considered ripping it up, so that nobody could get to it, but realised he couldn’t do it in front of Hinata. He may have been an asshole, but he wasn’t completely inconsiderate.
Yamaguchi’s eyes widened at the reaction. “What’s it say?” His voice was now laced with a twinge of concern, not knowing Tsukishima could have been so desperate to hide.
“It’s nothing,” he said, pocketing the note once more so that nobody could get to it. “It was just a note from a teacher.”
“Huh? Really?” Kageyama, who had been quietly watching from the side, spoke up.
“ Yes , really, king,” Tsukishima said, trying to keep his voice level. Of course he would be the one to start the questioning - he was being an irritating human being, as usual.
“No way!” Tanaka insists, volume turned up far too high for the group’s proximity. “That handwriting on the front was way too weird - like, stiff but still somehow messy kinda? But it was definitely not a teacher’s handwriting! I call bull!”
“The handwriting wasn’t that messy!” Hinata protests. Tsukishima looks pointedly at him, unable to keep his eyes from the source of the high pitched, whiny voice. The eye contact was not returned.
“Messy handwriting or not, it surely can’t be a teacher,” Tsukishima felt his last hope drip down the drain. Asahi too? “His face is far too red for that.”
This was news. Tsukishima hesitantly lifted a hand to his face. It was indeed far hotter than he would have liked it to be. He groaned, turning away from everybody and starting to get ready to leave.
“Unless, Asahi…” Nishinoya, grinned up at Asahi, then turned to Tanaka, who finished the sentence. “Oooh, Tsukishima, do you have a crush on a teacher?”
Tsukishima grimaced. Their excitement over this disgusted him, if he was being honest. The idea that he was interested in a teacher repulsed him. He ignored Nishinoya’s incessant questions of her name, what class she taught, what she looked like, and so on.
“Oh, scandalous,” Sugawara chuckled.
“Suga,” Daichi warned.
“What? They started it!”
“But you should know better.”
“Psshh, don’t make me sound so old. We’re only one year older than them...”
Sensing a drift in conversation, Tsukishima put his bag on his back and turned to leave.
“Wait, Tsukki, what’d it say?” Yamaguchi was rushing to pull his jacket on, yet still he approached Tsukishima to ask that oh-so-important question.
“Nothing. It was just a note from a teacher,” Tsukishima said, eyes barely glancing at his friend. “I’m leaving now.”
“Wait, but-”
“I’m leaving .” It came out harsher than intended, but it did the trick. Yamaguchi was quiet, and Tsukishima stalked out of the club room. Faintly, he heard Nishinoya ponder aloud about why a teacher would leave a letter at the club room anyway.
He put his headphones over his ears, and played some music. Exiting through the school’s grounds at last, he began his journey home, away from this building of strangers.
But one followed him. One who had just become more unknown to Tsukishima than he thought possible.
He only heard a muffled noise at first. Figuring it was just somebody talking to their friend, he ignored it. But it only grew louder, and closer.
He glanced over his shoulder, and pulled his headphones off. One moment, that was all he was going to wait for. No response. He turned around again; walked. The sooner this was all forgotten, the better.
“Wait-” Hinata called out. Tsukishima didn’t stop walking. Stubbornly, Hinata pushed forward with his bike. He stayed a couple of paces behind Tsukishima still. “We need to talk.” He was whispering, though loudly, as if there were people around who could hear.
“No we-” Yes they did, Tsukishima thought. He hated it. He didn’t want to. The idea made him feel sick. But they needed to talk. “Not right now.”
“I-”
“Shut up,” Tsukishima snapped, stopping. “I don’t-” He struggled with his words. This was not a situation he had ever come across. He wasn’t comfortable with this. He just wanted to go home. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the hell kind of game you’re playing, but I cannot talk right now.”
He didn’t let Hinata get a word in. “Anyway, you live in the opposite direction to me, right? Isn’t your house like an hour and a half away or something? Go.”
“But-”
“Go.”
Hinata was quiet. Tsukishima kept his eyes forward, letting him know that he wasn’t going to change his mind. He heard Hinata shifting his bike, and getting on.
A small, shaky breath was heard. “Sorry, Tsukishima-san.”
This made him turn. That wasn’t right. Hinata had never referred to him as that. Tsukishima was lucky if didn’t get an insult added on, but now Hinata was using an honorific.
Tsukishima stared, disturbed, at the orange dot fading into the distance. He didn’t like this. This wasn’t something he could do.
He’d turned down girls before.
He’d made people regret their dumb pranks.
But he’d never rejected a boy. Or a teammate - somebody who he had to work with almost every day.
He’d never rejected Hinata Shōyō, and he’d never heard an apology from him so sincere.