Chapter Text
Kei wakes up on his back to sunshine groggily fitting it’s way into the spaces between his blinds, changing the inside of his eyes from black to red as it brightens his room. He groans and, instead of opening his eyes, turns himself so he’s laying on his stomach instead, head buried in the scratchy comfort of his pillow.
Circadian rhythms can choke Kei thinks to himself. It’s Sunday. That’s a fact him and his impeccable inner calendar can feel all the way in his bones. It’s Sunday and Tsukishima Kei will not be waking up before twelve. The way the light is coming into his room suggests that it is very much not any time after his self imposed wake up time.
Sue him for staying up too late, Kei has no regrets -- that livestream with a famous paleontologist was better than he could’ve imagined.
He’s thinking of the remnants of his last dream, something about a character from one of Kozume-san’s games, when he begins to drift back to sleep. As his consciousness begins to melt back into non-reality, his hands fit themselves under his pillows. When he was younger, he used to sleep with a stuffed dinosaur his mother had gifted him.Now it lives in the back of his closet with no one but Akiteru to tease him about it. Kei can almost hear the character’s robotic voice when—
“Kei! You have a visitor!”
Kei’s eyes snap open at the shrill sound of his mother’s voice cutting through the air. Now, he loves his mother. He recognises and appreciates every single sacrifice she’s made trying to raise his brother and then him, knows how hard she worked to bring both of her boys back on speaking terms after what had happened when he was younger. But hearing her shout from the front entryway about someone he didn’t care about as much as sleep made him want to throw a tantrum fit for a three year old. Clearly he didn’t know them well or they would have known not to bother him until at least three on weekends. Well, unless they were Kuroo-san or Bokuto-san, but his mother wouldn’t have bothered introducing them if they popped by.
For one moment that is utterly detached from reality, Kei thinks of ignoring her. Of course (because he really does respect his mom) that doesn’t last long. He comes to terms with the death of his Sunday plans with an overly dramatic groan that syncs up almost perfectly with his mother shouting for him once more.
“Coming!” He yells back, rolling over to feel around for his glasses on his bedside table. It’s only after he finds them, precariously balanced on the pile of books he hasn’t bothered to move, that he bothers to actually open his eyes. His room is impossibly bright for -- he checks his clock, the numbers swim but Kei knows it says nine just like he knows it’s Sunday -- nine in the morning and as soon as he gets out of his bed he thinks about getting blackout curtains.
Yeah, Kei’s going to kill whoever his visitor is.
He thinks about who it could be when he finally makes his way into the hallway. Kuroo-san and Bokuto-san have already been ruled out. Kozume-san never visits him, partially because they aren’t that close and partially because if he wanted to talk to Kei he would do it in the abyssal hours of the night through a LINE chatroom. Same with Akaashi-san, minus the four am texting. Kei has no friends in the neighbourhood and no one from school who would just pop by.
Kei’s just starting to think it might be a surprise visit from Akiteru, something created on short notice which was why they hadn’t factored in how much the youngest Tsukishima wasn’t a morning person, when he rounds the corner of the hallway and his eyes land on the front door.
Yamaguchi Tadashi is standing there in all of his freckled glory, haloed by the morning sun that’s pouring in from the Tsukishima residence’s still opened front door. He’s talking to Kei’s mom who has her back turned to the hallway, something about what his parents are doing for the upcoming break, and still hasn’t noticed Kei who is currently standing there like an idiot wondering how in the hell he had Yamaguchi Tadashi as the person coming to see him.
“Uh.” The unintelligent noise slips from Kei’s lips before he can tell himself to shut up and both parties shift to look at him. His mother has a sharp, teasing smirk on her lips, something Kei is suddenly forced to remember that he has inherited from her. But it’s Yamaguchi who has his attention. Yamaguchi Tadashi and his black stud-wearing ears and his longish hair that Kei hopes he never has to cut and his smile . Yamaguchi is looking at him with a smile that renders sirens everywhere ineffective -- who needs their songs when they can put a happy Yamaguchi out in the middle of the sea and watch as sailors, captivated with the sweet curve of his mouth, find themselves suddenly shipwrecked?
“Kei!” Yamaguchi says and his eyes sparkle; white hot affection pours from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes, turns the apples of Kei’s cheeks pink and makes the back of his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears burn.
The blond in question goes into crisis mode because this cannot be happening.
“Uh.” Kei repeats. Yamaguchi and his mom only laugh.
“You’ve been dating for months and that’s still all you can say around him? Tadashi-kun, I’m surprised you can put up with Kei like this?” Kei’s mom is joking. She must be joking. Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi are two names never to be said in the same sentence let alone one including the word dating.
Yamaguchi’s smile becomes a little sly and he shoots Kei a look that he knows is supposed to mean something but Kei for the life of him can’t figure it out. He scrubs a hand across his face, being careful to not knock off his glasses in the process.
Hoarsely, Kei asks, “What are you doing here?” to which Yamaguchi blinks before laughing.
“We’re going out, silly. It’s my turn to plan a date.” For a second, Kei gets himself caught up on how Yamaguchi Tadashi just called him ‘silly’ and how he actually finds it cute rather than annoying, but then it hits him that maybe he should be more focused on the fact that he’s apparently going out on a date with Yamaguchi.
He’s going out on a date with Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi Tadashi is going out on a date with him.
Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi are dating. For real.
“Well, I’ll give you two some privacy…” Kei’s mother says, turning to leave. In the split second before she exits the entryway Kei has the urge to grab her arm and beg her to stay, because when it comes down to it, this scenario is bringing out every inch of coward there is inside of him. He refrains out of pride. When Yamaguchi steps forward now that they’re alone, his heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.
“Are you feeling okay, Kei? You look a little sick?”
“I’m okay.” He says, because as much as he feels like a wimp right now, he’s still talking to Yamaguchi (who he’s apparently dating) and he is not going to fuck it up. It feels like every single apathetic atom in his body is being sucked out of him, the layers of his cool facade cracking and breaking without chemical support. If he’s not missing them then they are, at the very least, going to making sure his face stays neutral as he watches Yamaguchi approach him, watches him stand in front of him, watches him lay a hand on his forehead and then his cheek as if testing for a fever, all with that smile still on his lips, soft and bright.
“Good. I can’t wait for you to see what I have planned.” And Yamaguchi leans up to knock their foreheads together lightly. He’s so close that Kei wants to scream, but he refrains because that means he’ll be forced to look away from the sight before him. Yamaguchi and his long, long lashes and his shiny eyes and the freckles that Kei wants to count so he never forgets just how many there are and -- the sound of air being sharply inhaled sounds through the entryway because apparently Kei forgot how to do so automatically. The freckled boy just giggles, honest to G-d giggles and Kei feels his entire heart melt. How someone can be so cute is beyond him.
Kei’s mind goes the blankest it has ever been, short circuiting, because all of a sudden Yamaguchi is leaning in
And in
And in
And-
Tsukishima Kei wakes up at exactly seven am on a Tuesday morning, face planted firmly into the scratchy, comforting cotton of his pillowcase, to an ache both in his chest and his head. He always remembers his dreams, but this one in particular cuts through his memory like glass, reflecting back at him every single one of his desires. Kei groans loudly into his pillow, not caring if he accidentally wakes up his mother.
He is so fucked.
------
Kei falls in love with Yamaguchi Tadashi on a Wednesday, years before he actually knows what love is.
It’s their second year of junior high and they’re in the same class, both in the vertical row closest to the window. Kei in the last seat and Yamaguchi in the first. Worlds apart, this Kei knows.
Because here’s the thing — everyone likes Yamaguchi and everyone stays far, far away from Kei.
He doesn’t care about that, not when he can occupy himself with his music (his parents bought him his first pair of over-the-ear headphones recently. Sony and white with sound that makes him feel like he’s in a different world when he wants to be) and books and volleyball; but he does realise what it means: Yamaguchi is untouchable.
And that makes something prickle under his skin, something all around unpleasant that he’d rather forget about because even though Kei hates being told what to do, he hates following others without reason even more. Kei doesn’t get what makes Yamaguchi so special and he certainly doesn’t understand why every time he hears one of his giggles from the front of the room, he feels nauseous.
On that particular Wednesday, science is their first period. Usually that means Kei is a little less grumpy than he normally is (he has never pretended to be a morning person), but Sensei has just announced that they’ll be doing an ink chromatography lab.
And labs mean partners.
And Kei has a burning hatred for partner work.
Okay so maybe he’s fourteen and has a burning hatred for a lot of things right now, but even the idea of letting a person he doesn’t like dictate his grade makes him wish he had pretended to be sick to avoid class today. Kei lets out a small sigh at his own dramatics which can’t be heard above the excited buzzing of his classmates. He’s apparently the only one with reservations about being forced to work in pairs, but he knows what they’re thinking — today might be one of those days when Sensei is feeling particularly nice and agrees to let them work with their friends.
“Settle down everyone, settle down,” Sensei says, her palms facing the ground as she makes a motion for the noise to decrease, “I‘ve already picked partners out for you so don’t get so excited.” And Kei feels his stomach drop because at least if they were able to choose partners he could ask if he could work alone. Because he has one of the highest ranks of the classes, sometimes Sensei lets him do stuff like that.
As the class begins to grumble (quieter, this time, because Sensei isn’t the type to repeat herself without consequences), Kei feels his scowl deepen. He pretends that class is already over, that he’s on the other side of the day, laying in his bed, homework done and headphones on. Recently he’s been really liking bands in English — stuff from the late 90s, early 2000s, angry guitars, whiny vocals — he doesn’t really know what they’re saying because English is an objectively boring subject, but he’s read the translated lyrics a couple of times and is infinitely grateful that his parents find the language just as uninteresting as he does.
Kei’s left pointer finger, skin and nail bitten and ragged, begins tapping on his desk, the noises forming the drum line of one of his favourite songs at the moment. He doesn’t remember the name, just the sharp feelings in his chest and the-
“Um, Tsukishima-san? Do you want to work at my desk or yours?”
Oh no
Oh fuck no.
Kei has been zoned out for so long that he had missed Sensei giving out partners. Had missed Sensei pairing him up with Yamaguchi Tadashi and his short (okay, everybody is short compared to Tsukishima), warm-smiled, freckled face.
The brunet is shuffling by the side of Kei’s spot, waiting awkwardly for him to give an answer. His hands are clasped in front of his waist and he’s fidgeting, yanking on his uniform sleeves. It’s somewhat… endea- irritating. Very irritating. Kei sighs which gets Yamaguchi to stop and look straight at him, but being under those doe-eyes makes Kei’s throat go dry. The blond props his elbow onto the desk and cups his chin in the palm of his hand, looking out of the window and schooling his expression into one of boredom.
“Mine.” He finally says. He can physically feel the way Yamaguchi brightens when he finally speaks, sunshine personified.
“Okay! Let me go get my papers.”
And he does. Then he comes back and pulls up a chair to the side of Kei’s desk. And they get to work. The life changing, Earth shattering, soul reviving part doesn’t come until class is almost over.
Yamaguchi Tadashi has been the best partner he’s ever had during a project.
He hadn’t gotten irritated with Kei for his short sentences like other classmates had before, nor did he try to weasel out of any of the work. In fact, it was Yamaguchi’s idea that they divide and conquer, and Yamaguchi who had asked Kei in that bright, bright voice what he wanted to do and what he wanted Yamaguchi to do.
They’re nearly done with their work — Yamaguchi putting the finishing touches on their process essay and Kei coming back from cleaning up their materials — when Yamaguchi says-
“Sorry if I was bossy while we were working, Tsukishima-san. Thank you for putting up with me if I was.”
Kei, who had been pushing in his chair, pauses, legs only half way under his desk. He’s tried to avoid direct eye contact with Yamaguchi in discrete ways, but now he looks at him, really looks at him, and Yamaguchi lets out a self-deprecating little chuckle.
He assesses the fidgeting hands and the slightly hunched posture, the way his knee is bobbing up and down and shaking his table slightly — a mini earthquake —, but most importantly, he sees the anxiety in Yamaguchi’s eyes. He’s not scared of Kei, the blond knows that much right away, but his entire body is poised to take a blow, verbally or physically. Kei feels a little sick.
Oh.
He thinks he understands a little bit about Yamaguchi now.
“You were fine, Yamaguchi.” Kei grumbles. He swears he can hear a sharp intake of breath and then Yamaguchi’s eyes are finding his own and they sparkle . It’s like shining a light onto glass, the glare almost blinding Kei with the way those dark irises seem to reflect the sunshine coming in through the window. His entire body begins to unfold like a flower in bloom, his shoulders becoming straighter and his neck stopping its downward descent in favour of growing in the confidence he had shown during the partnership.
“A-Alright. Thank you.” The only thing that betrays his prior embarrassment is the rosy red of his cheeks, forcing the constellation of freckles that linger there to become even more prominent.
Yamaguchi burns so bright that Kei thinks he might go up in flames.
He turns his gaze away to face the window once more and hums a response, feeling himself blush and willing it to go down. The nausea is back. Except this time it doesn’t exactly mean he wants to shun Yamaguchi’s presence, instead, he feels like he might want to do something a little reckless, like find an excuse to talk to Yamaguchi at lunch or ask to be his partner next time they get to pick.
Kei doesn’t do anything of the sort.
He only begins to hum the chorus of the song he was tapping out earlier. Because he isn’t focusing on Yamaguchi, he can’t see the way he opens his mouth to say something, surprise and excitement in his eyes at the tune forming in Kei’s mouth. Sensei asks them to all go back to their own seats, prompting Yamaguchi to spout a goodbye instead which Kei waves away. No one can possibly expect him to say anything when his heart is in his throat, can they?
Kei sort of gets why Yamaguchi is so untouchable now.
———
“My fingers feel like they’re going to fall off, Akaashi…” Bokuto whines, draping himself across the tan couch in Kei’s basement and using Akaashi’s thighs as a pillow. Akaashi, the Saint that Kei is convinced he is, only shakes his head and runs his fingers through the unstyled locks of Bokuto’s hair. From his spot behind his drum set, memories of his dream from the night prior flash behind his eyes and Kei feels envy course hotly through his veins.
“I told you Bokuto-san, you need to practice more so you form calluses. That way your fingers won’t be so sore.” Akaashi coos.
Kei feels his expression darken as Kuroo walks in front of his drum kit and hands him a water bottle. Kenma is behind him, large headphones clapped over his ears and plugged into his game console to block out at least some of the noise from their practices.
When Kei was in his third year of junior high he had met them all — Kenma, Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo, otherwise known as: the only other kids who were taking music lessons from Kei’s next door neighbour. His mom thought it would be a good idea for him to get out of the house and do something he enjoyed around other kids.
Kei had been forcibly taken under Kuroo’s wing as the only other drumming student their sensei taught, and by extension, unable to escape Kuroo’s (and everyone else’s) claws of ‘friendship’. His mom had been thrilled that he was finally hanging out with other people his age — however she was not so enthusiastic about them deciding to form a band and practice in her basement.
“Thinking about Freckles-kun?” The dark haired boy asks with a smirk, noticing how Kei had begun to space out. Kuroo has long since stopped playing the drums, taking up the guitar instead. Kei equates the calluses on the older boy’s hands to how much he loves his new instrument and, briefly, Kei wonders if they should hide them from Bokuto.
Speaking of the white-and-black haired boy, he sits up at Kuroo’s words with new conviction and nearly headbutts Akaashi in the process. Kei would normally comment on that, but he’s too busy looking away from the four sets of eyes now on him at the mention of Yamaguchi.
“What about Yamaguchi-kun?” Bokuto inquires, head tilting owlishly.
Flustered, Kei snaps, “Nothing, Bokuto-san, nothing at all.”
Bokuto, for his part, takes Kei’s irritation in stride, leaving only Akaashi (who Kenma is now sitting by, playing some sort of RPG fighter game) looking pained. Kuroo shakes his head, tsking.
“Now Tsukishima-kun, is that any way to talk to your band brethren? Especially when we want to help you?” Kei glares daggers at his mentor who’s doing his best impression of a saint.
“Kuroo-san, your version of help would be telling me to pine pathetically after him for years and wait until he gets too fed up at my uselessness before he asks me out.” Okay, Kei feels a little twinge of remorse for that one when he notices the flash of hurt in Kuroo’s eyes.
“You’re already doing that yourself, Kuro telling you to would just be redundant.” Kenma chimes in. Kuroo’s prideful gaze sweeps over to his boyfriend, chest puffed up slightly. Akaashi snorts as Bokuto puts a hand on Kenma’s shoulder in congratulations, all while Kenma glares at his screen like it personally insulted his mother.
Kei grumbles instead of replying.
By virtue of them attending the same high school, they all know about Yamaguchi. Kei had thought he was doing a good job of keeping his feelings in check, but upon the end of his first week as a first year in high school, all of his band mates had asked him at least once if he had a crush on Yamaguchi. To his credit, he never outright told them yes, but because he wasn’t able to keep his blush in check they had figured him out anyway. All in all, it was a mess and months into the new school year, it still is.
“All I’m saying is,” Kuroo starts, but Kei can tell he’s treading a bit lighter this time and something cold pools in his chest, “Bokuto and I have more experience than you give us credit for. You’re our kouhai. We want you to be happy and not a sad, pining mess.”
“I am not a-“
“You’re a sad, pining mess.” Akaashi repeats and Kei glares at him, hard, in a way that conveys his betrayal. He’s supposed to be on Kei’s side! Akaashi only shrugs his shoulders in response to Kei’s outrage, stretching his arms out in front of himself and cracking his knuckles.
But what pushes him over the edge is when Bokuto very solemnly starts with, “But we love you anyway-”
“-So we’re going to help you whether you like it or not.” Kuroo finishes, crossing his arms like that is that.
Kenma chimes in again, “You guys should focus on your sound and not Tsukishima’s love life. Just an idea.” which leaves Kuroo to turn, affronted, to his boyfriend and gasp dramatically. Akaashi nods and gets up, grabbing his guitar while Bokuto picks up his bass.
“Our sound is great, thank you very much, mister I-stopped-practicing-piano.”
“I still practice.” Kenma bites back. At least, it’s what Kei has come to understand as a come back. Kuroo makes his way to his guitar and microphone as Kei adjusts his own mic stand that sits right in front of his drums.
“Do not.”
“Do to.”
“Do not.”
“Do to.”
And even though Kei still has the remorse from snapping at Kuroo earlier buried in his chest and his face feels too warm all over from talking about Yamaguchi, he doesn’t feel too bad. He’s still irritated at their persistence, sure, but something like contentment thrums pleasantly in his veins.
“Alright Tsukishima, count us off.”
———
“Um, everyone? Could I uh, have your attention, maybe? Please?”
Kei turns his head away from the window, expression blank as his eyes land on Yachi, their class representative, at the front of the room. Their other representative is out with mono so it’s been Yachi who has been holding up the fort in his absence. Kei respects her for it, especially now that she’s quivering in front of the blackboard but still holding her ground. He spots Yamaguchi, front row, right next to the door and directly across the classroom from Kei, giving her a thumbs up and a small smile. His heart does a few flips in his chest at the sight, especially when she smiles back, looking a little less like she’s going to throw up.
“Listen up everybody!” She says, stronger this time, and everyone does indeed listen up. If Kei was a different person, he might applaud. “The votes have finally been counted and it looks like our class will be hosting a talent show for this year’s school festival!”
Kei takes his hypothetical applause back — he wishes Yachi had never gotten up there at all because he already knows what’s going to happen. Kuroo is going to find out about it and he’s going to find a way to sign their band up for a song or two.
In front of Yamaguchi.
Kei works his hands under his glasses and presses the balls of his palms into his eyes so hard his vision goes staticky, balancing his elbows on his desk as he tunes out Yachi’s excited explanations about how they should run each committee and what the time frame is.
By the end of class, Kei respectfully wants to pass away.
———
“Tsukishima-san, wait a minute! Could you hold the door?” A familiar voice calls out to him. He turns his head to the left where it came from and spots one Yamaguchi Tadashi carrying what looks to be a very heavy box of supplies and coming straight towards him.
Kei was usually the first one out the door, but because he is now an official member of the special effects and decorating committee (no one will say it to his face, of course, but he knows it’s because they’ll need someone tall enough to reach all the high places no one else can), he had to stay a little later to help with planning. Grumpy was an understatement about how he felt towards his continued imprisonment in a classroom with peers he didn’t like or know, but now he’s feeling a little more grateful.
He quirks a brow in response but he stops, and keeps the sliding classroom door in place. His heart absolutely does not flutter in his chest when he sees him. He’s Tsukishima Kei, after all, and fluttering hearts are the most uncool thing he could possibly think of.
Yamaguchi has changed since junior high. He’s taller, for one. It’s not as easy for Kei to tower over him as it used to be, but he’s still short enough that if they were to hug, Kei could rest his cheek comfortably on Yamaguchi’s hair. Speaking of his hair, it’s longer now, still the same swampy brown but with the added bonus of Yamaguchi needing headbands to keep his hair back when his bangs get into his eyes. It’s permanently kept back in a half up half down style now too. Kei doesn’t even try to pretend that he doesn’t want to run his fingers through it all.
But the most recent change is something Kei is only seeing up close for the first time now — studs. Black 8mm studs sit in Yamaguchi Tadashi’s earlobes and Kei doesn’t know how to think anymore.
He’s overheard Yamaguchi talk to some of his friends in class about them before, how he got them done over summer holidays and his parents were still kind of upset. How they hurt only a little bit, but he has a high pain tolerance so it was fine in the end. How he’s thinking of getting an eyebrow piercing when he’s older.
Kei’s mouth is almost painfully dry when his tongue flicks out to wet his lips, running over his own lip ring (courtesy of Akaashi, amateur piercer extraordinaire), as Yamaguchi gets closer.
Okay, maybe his heart is fluttering a little bit.
“Thank you so much, Tsukishima-san. Yachi and I went to grab these from the storage closet but it took a little while for us to find it. Did you know they moved it from the third year hallway to the second year hallway?” Yamaguchi rambles on, stepping through the doorway and walking to the nearest desk to deposit the box.
“No, I didn’t.” Kei responds. The box makes a heavy sounding thunk as it drops and Yamaguchi cringes at the noise.
“Yeah well,” he turns to face Kei, “We didn’t either.” Kei snorts at his disgruntled expression and the brief look of pleasure on Yamaguchi’s face makes him burn inside.
His heart is definitely fluttering.
“Thank you again for holding the door open for me, I appreciate it.” Yamaguchi repeats.
Kei hums.
He isn’t usually a person of many words, not when language makes it so easy to lie, so easy to dig claws into the soft muscle of his heart. For a while, Kei had only known sharp words. Had only known how to use them to his advantage, to twist and poke and prod the other party until their bleeding visage stood deathly still among onlookers.
Now though, he knows better. Kei has healed quite a bit since his own wounds were open and bloody, pooling beneath him with every step he took. He can be even more than civil, it’s what he wants to be with Yamaguchi.
Kei wants to open his mouth and watch the freckled teen smile because he knows Kei’s words will be a caress and not a bullet.
But years trapped in bad habits make something like that a hard feat to accomplish.
So instead of trying to say something meaningless that will hopefully prolong the conversation, Kei decides he’ll pull on his headphones and walk out the door. Maybe, if he gets lucky, Yamaguchi will only take a few minutes and will find it in himself to ask Kei to wait up.
Kei turns to head out, but notices Yamaguchi’s lips open to say something, hands toying with the fabric of his uniform pants. The shorter boy’s shoulders are bunched up around his ears so that he looks smaller -- deja vu slips insistently into his brain when he sees Yamaguchi like that. He never lost the reaction. Probably, he never will; probably, Kei won’t let the person who did this to Yamaguchi off easy (if he ever finds out who it was).
He doesn’t show this distaste on his face. Instead, the blond pauses, eyebrow quirked in silent question as he waits for Yamaguchi to speak.
“I-“
“Tadashi!” Someone calls instead, the presumed owner zipping past Kei and nearly tackling Yamaguchi in the process. Hinata Shouyou. Kei would recognise the loud redhead anywhere, mostly because he’s had to see him bust into their classroom every lunch period to steal Yamaguchi away for whatever they do during the break. Kei doesn’t even bother to hide the grimace on his face at their intrusion (even if he is glad to see that Yamaguchi’s shoulders are no longer hunched). The only thing that makes it worse is that with Hinata comes…
“Tsukishima.” Kageyama Tobio regards him with barely concealed irritation from just beyond the threshold of the door.
Kei sneers, “Why hello your majesty.”
Kageyama looks like he’s going to say something but is cut off by Hinata growling like an angry Pomeranian from where he’s still latched onto Yamaguchi.
“What are you doing to our poor Tadashi?! He was supposed to meet us fifteen minutes ago!” Hinata turns to Yamaguchi, glancing up at the flabbergasted boy with wide brown eyes. “Did he try to attack you, Tadashi? We’ll kick his butt for you, just give us the word, right Kageyama?”
Yamaguchi splutters when Kageyama nods his assent.
It should probably hurt more that Hinata and Kageyama assumed that Kei would ever do something to Yamaguchi, but it doesn’t. Mostly because he doesn’t care enough about Hinata and Kageyama’s opinions, even if they are quite close to the freckled teen.
No, the only thing that matters is the affronted look on Yamaguchi’s face as he glances from his friends to Kei, expression quickly morphing into apologetic when they lock eyes.
“Tsukishima-san didn’t do anything, guys. He actually helped me out!” Yamaguchi corrects, prying Hinata off of him with a kind smile.
Kei simply rolls his eyes, not in the mood to throw anything out there.
“Tadashi, you’re too nice!” Is Hinata’s retort, fully extracted from Yamaguchi. He’s like a big, orange leech that feeds off of bright and sunny attention. Attention , Kei thinks before he can stop himself, that had been mine . Great. Now Kei’s the one acting like a petulant child. Hinata is rubbing off on him.
Yamaguchi chuckles and shakes his head, hair brushing his collar with the motion, “I’m just telling the truth, Shou.”
Hinata gives Yamaguchi a look that’s as loud as he is when he’s speaking, one that tells everyone and their mothers that he believes Yamaguchi about as much as he would believe Kei if the blond ever complimented him.
Kei supposes this conversation could go further (he’s already feeling it as his social battery, which had started to refill itself after talking to Yamaguchi, begins to drain once more), but it doesn’t.
Because Kageyama asks “Do you need any more help” and Kei catches a chance to slip away as quietly as possible. He likes Yamaguchi, he likes him a lot, even, but he doesn’t exactly get along with his friends. At this point, he’d probably be more of a hindrance than a help, if the shifty glances Kageyama keeps shooting his way are any indicator.
Because Yamaguchi gives him another sincere glance that says: he’s sorry, his friends don’t mean it (Kei knows that they do), he really is thankful that he held the door open for him. Kei nods, understanding it all, and watches the way Yamaguchi flushes with surprise. Kei doesn’t know if it’s because he was expecting him not to be able to read his expression or because of the few words Kei tried to convey back towards him. Don’t worry about it . It feels weirdly intimate to try to say something without words. No, that’s not it. It feels weird for Kei to have someone who can (who wants to ) actually read his expression. He could get used to it.
Because Hinata has floated towards the box Yamaguchi brought back with him and is beginning to rummage through it, causing Yamaguchi, the only anchor keeping him to the room, to take his eyes off of Kei with a fond smile. The redhead starts babbling about something or other and Kei turns on the noise cancelling function on his headphones to drown them all out, opening the classroom door and stepping out.
With the first chords of some metal band playing in his ears, Kei almost manages to forget about the school festival.
Almost.