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It was something that only started to bother him on Wednesday.
Maybe that was a lie. He had pushed it to the back of his mind and forced himself to dismiss the situation as ‘resolved’, and even though there’d been a deep, uncomfortable churning in his stomach since it had happened, he’d managed to live with it. He’d been living with it since Sunday night, and every day since then had come and gone without much drama or fanfare. Today was different. Right now was different. Today he was finding it much more difficult to keep pretending that everything was fine, that the situation was resolved, that it was another ordinary day.
He knew Yamaguchi was upset, but he’d assumed he would get over it. He always did. Sure, it was more than a little annoying that he hadn’t responded to any of Tsukishima’s messages, but he could get a pass for that. Yamaguchi wanted some space but eventually he would be fine. He was always fine within the span of a couple days.
But then Wednesday came around. Tsukishima stared at the door, expecting it to swing open and for the familiar ‘Tsukki, let’s go!’ to ring out. Nothing happened. Frowning, he looked up at the clock above him. 5 minutes late. Then 10. It’s not like Tsukishima even really cared about coffee. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. It was Yamaguchi who cared, who’d created their stupid Wednesday morning coffee routine, who was currently 15 minutes late.
He checked his text messages. The last thing he’d sent was ‘stop being so sensitive’, sent Tuesday afternoon. No response. Nothing since then either, nothing to inform him of his lateness, or maybe a possible emergency that had come up.
Nothing but silence.
Hope came in the form of the door being pushed open at 34 minutes past the usual meeting time, and hope immediately died when it was revealed to just be Asahi.
“Oh.” He said, stopping when he noticed Tsukishima was still here. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you’d be at the café.”
Tsukishima just looked at Asahi. There was nothing substantially wrong with him. All things considered, he was a good roommate. He didn’t talk much, he didn’t bother Tsukishima more than strictly necessary, he was easy to ignore. There wasn’t much Tsukishima could fault Asahi for, but right now he was the most annoying person in the fucking world.
Why?
Because he wasn’t the one who should’ve walked through that door.
“Hey, you done?”
Nishinoya appeared by the doorframe, his head leaning in to peer inside. He also seemed surprised to see Tsukishima here, on his own and noticeably without his sidekick, but then his surprise quickly turned into a suspiciously victorious smile. “Ha!” He exclaimed, grinning widely. “Ennoshita owes me $10.”
Ordinarily, Tsukishima wouldn’t react to that. Nishinoya had clearly said that so Tsukishima would take the bait and ask, ‘what are you talking about?’. Ordinarily that wouldn’t work, because ordinarily Tsukishima wouldn’t care.
“Because he lost the bet.” Nishinoya continued, dangling the information in front of Tsukishima. Nishinoya wasn’t like Hinata or Kageyama, who were both operating at roughly half a shared braincell. Nishinoya had an undercurrent of intelligence to him, capable of enough self-awareness to not be hellish to interact with. Tsukishima didn’t mind him too much. If he ever became too annoying, he was relatively easy to tune out, but he couldn’t tune him out today. Not with information like that, information that was clearly about him and Yamaguchi. Ordinarily he could tune him out, but today clearly wasn’t an ordinary day.
So Tsukishima sighed, but he let himself take the bait. “What bet?”
Nishinoya, relishing in his victory, smiled. “That Yamaguchi wouldn’t just roll over and forgive you this time.”
“Noya…” Asahi warned, his voice low as if Tsukishima couldn’t hear him anyway. “We’re going down for breakfast, Tsukishima. Do you want to join us?”
Of course he didn’t. Why would Asahi even ask a stupid question like that? What on earth could ever make him-?
“Yamaguchi should be there.” Nishinoya remarked, pretending to be addressing Asahi and not Tsukishima. “With another group, I think. He mentioned something about it to Suga this morning.”
So Tsukishima tagged along. They had their own way of talking to each other, Nishinoya and Asahi, and so the journey downstairs was peacefully similar to walking with people who spoke a completely different language. Nishinoya was clearly entertained by being able to push Tsukishima and have all his goading works, but Tsukishima didn’t really care about that, or the fact that news of the Sunday incident had spread far enough for there to be fucking bets on the outcome. He didn’t care that Asahi was warily glancing over at him, seemingly tempted to ask ‘are you okay?’ but knowing better. He was okay. He was perfectly fine. Other than Yamaguchi fucking his morning routine up, he was perfectly fine.
It just made no sense that Yamaguchi would go down for breakfast in the Food Hall. He hated the Food Hall. He would always decline when the others invited him, choosing to eat from the outside food stalls or library mini-kitchens instead. Tsukishima tended to skip breakfast for the most part, but he didn’t on Wednesdays. It hadn’t even been his idea – the stupid Wednesday tradition that Yamaguchi had created hadn’t been his idea at all, and yet he was the one being stood up.
So he was a little pissed.
Tsukishima knew Nishinoya because he was always with Asahi, and he knew Hinata and Kageyama because the 5 of them (including Yamaguchi’s roommate, Tanaka) were an annoying, loud, tedious group of friends. There’d been many nights when Tsukishima would return to his dorm and see them all lounging on his sofa, throwing popcorn at the TV as Asahi made them food. Hinata, Kageyama, and Nishinoya were all on the college volleyball team, and during Yamaguchi’s brief volleyball phase last year, Tsukishima had been forced to accompany him to watch some of the bigger volleyball games.
Tsukishima knew Sugawara through Yamaguchi, because Suga was the mental health rep that Yamaguchi had started seeing in his first year to help with his anxiety. Sugawara was the pandora’s box of sociability, because knowing Sugawara had opened them to so many different spheres of people, friends of Suga’s who became friends of Yamaguchi who assumed themselves to then be friends of Tsukishima. People would sometimes say hi to Tsukishima when they passed each other in the hallways, as if they expected Tsukishima to ever return the greeting.
It was far too many people. To Tsukishima, a good day would be interacting with Yamaguchi, Kuroo, and his textbooks. A bad day would be a day like today, when he was forced to sit and have breakfast with a group as big as this one, when he actually found himself missing bitter cups of coffee and listening to Yamaguchi insist he had just read the most interesting book ever – the same thing he claimed every week after a meeting with the Portuguese Book Club.
“No, Tsukki, imagine this: they were long lost twins the entire time!”
It was all so fucking stupid, and yet here he was, being punished with Yamaguchi’s absence because Yamaguchi had decided to break their Wednesday tradition with no warning, nothing. As if Tsukishima deserved that, as if…as if Yamaguchi was still upset.
The others were surprised to see him here. Tsukishima didn’t even make a witty remark to counter Nishinoya’s claim that he was only here because Yamaguchi stood him up. It was true. That was the only reason, and he needed to make sure that reason never happened again.
“I saw him when we walked in. He’s over there.” Shoyo Hinata said, mouth full of bacon and eggs and cheese. With greasy fingers, he pointed out to a location behind Tsukishima. Tsukishima would’ve said something, something like ‘you eat like a fucking pig, it’s disgusting’, but he bit down any comment and followed his indication instead, turning around in his seat. Oh. He felt more surprised than what was probably warranted. Yamaguchi was here, in the Food Hall, with a different group of people. People that weren’t Tsukishima.
And he was laughing with them.
Tsukishima had spent the first year of college complaining to Yamaguchi that they knew far too many people. Yamaguchi would say the same thing, that it’d been nice in high school when it was just the two of them, that it was more than a little overwhelming knowing as many people as they now did. Every morning, Tsukishima would make some sort of complaint about their extended social circle, and Yamaguchi would nod, agreeing with him. Maybe he’d just been humouring him. Tsukishima didn’t need other friends, and he’d always thought the feeling was mutual.
At least, it was mutual until college.
“You look like shit.” Tsukishima said to Tobio Kageyama, catching sight of him when he sat down next to Hinata and snatched some food off Hinata’s plate. “What, you’re not finished defrosting yet? Got some more seconds to go before you start to look human?”
Kageyama glowered at him. “Shut up.”
“Hey!” Hinata’s mouth was full but he swallowed finally, giving his words more room to breathe. “Don’t use him to distract yourself from Yamaguchi hating you now.”
The table seemed to fall silent. Tsukishima was impressed that Hinata had immediately figured out what he was doing, but he was admittedly having a very off day so he couldn’t be too impressed. Still, that didn’t make his words any less infuriating. It didn’t make the fact that seemingly everyone knew about the Sunday incident any less infuriating.
“Uh…” Hinata winced a little, leaning back so that he was further away from Tsukishima than Kageyama was. “I mean…Tobio does actually look like a wet dog now that I…uh…think about it.”
Tsukishima couldn’t explain it, really. What could he say that would convey exactly how he was feeling? That he was being subjected to breakfast with some of the most annoying people on the goddamn fucking planet all because Yamaguchi was being a sensitive little loser and not forgiving him immediately?
Tsukishima drummed his fingers against the table, mentally reprimanding himself. Yamaguchi was not a sensitive little loser.
He was a stubborn little traitor.
Koushi Sugawara walked up to the table, all smiles and good energy, with another mental health rep – Kiyoko Shimizu. He was holding a clipboard and gesturing to the bowl of brightly coloured pens she was holding. Tsukishima rolled his eyes, turning away from them and looking at Yamaguchi again, tuning everyone out. He wasn’t interested in whatever student wellbeing event they were organising. Instead, he focused on Yamaguchi. The traitor. The childish unforgiving bastard.
His best friend.
He couldn’t explain it, but he knew this felt different than normal. He had known it the night it happened, when the silence after his words had been more devastating than he’d expected. It had happened Sunday night, and as soon as it happened Tsukishima had felt the shift underneath his feet, the shattering underneath his skin.
This was different. He had pretended it wasn’t, that everything would just settle back to its place, but it hadn’t. There was Yamaguchi, nodding along to a story being told to him and his group by someone else on the table, even cracking a joke and making the people around him laugh. There was Yamaguchi, with the new confidence he had earned in college, with his hair tied into a ponytail, the piercings in his ear, his bass guitar leaning against the head of the table. Being away from home had done wonders for Yamaguchi’s self-image. It had caused nervous breakdowns in his first year, breakdowns he occasionally still had, but it had given him the chance to be who he really was.
And who was he, really?
Tsukishima liked to think he was the only one who knew.
“Tsukishima?”
Tsukishima turned to the others. Asahi had been the one to call for his attention. “Do you want to sign up?”
“No.” Tsukishima said. He stood up. He was done with breakfast despite not having eaten anything. He was done with this group. He was done with Yamaguchi holding a grudge for something so stupid.
“You didn’t even hear what Suga said!” Hinata protested. “I think it’ll be-”
“You’re stupid to the point of being an active waste of space. You could be dead and be outputting the same amount of brain function as you are now. There would be no fucking difference. I’m convinced you’ve never had a worthwhile thought in your life, and I sincerely doubt this is about to be your first.”
Tsukishima felt tired. He hadn’t expected his Wednesday body to be so conditioned to morning coffees that to go without it felt like banging his head against a wall. He blinked slowly when Kageyama stood up and got in his face, and he was so bored, so, so bored of them all. He was bored of everyone who wasn’t-
Tsukishima was starting to become very annoyed with himself.
“Don’t talk to him like that.” Kageyama looked tired too, with deep bags under his eyes and bandages around his fingers. “No one gives a shit that Yamaguchi figured out he was too good for you. We were all waiting for it anyway. You think none of us noticed that he’s been here every morning this semester without you?”
Tsukishima’s brain had to reboot itself. In the few seconds of inaction, he felt frantic thoughts push through his mind. What? What? What? But he hated the Food Halls, why would he be here everyday? Why wouldn’t he tell me?
But then his brain rebooted successfully, and Tsukishima just smirked. “The pressure of being King of the Court getting to you? Huh? Your plays have gotten worse, there’s a First Year who’s shown more promise than you, and you can’t stop that pain in your wrist. Right?”
More silence. Tsukishima knew he had hit the nail on its head, and he had figured most of that out from rumours and Kageyama’s constant sulky mood. No one at the table was laughing at that. None of them had a sense of humour, clearly. Yamaguchi would laugh at that. He would snicker behind his hand and Tsukishima would glance back at him and feel his smirk get wider.
But that didn’t happen today, because today wasn’t ordinary. And Tsukishima was starting to hate it.
*
Tsukishima was a Maths student. He sat in the same seat every lecture, wrote notes in green ink on his iPad, and humoured Kuroo whenever he cracked jokes about how awful Professor Ittetsu Takeda’s haircuts were, or how ugly his suede shoes were, or how awkward the fitting of his suits looked. He’d fallen into a predictable routine that was echoed by the people around him – Tsukishima would always sit 3 rows from the back, Kuroo would always sit next to him, and Professor Takeda would always be dressed like an alien trying to imitate human academia fashion.
But today the Professor was wearing a black beanie on his head, white Nike sneakers, and had swapped his ill-fitting suit for a white t-shirt and some jeans. He had broken out of the predictable routine without forewarning anyone else, and for as mundane as this break in routine was, it still deeply unsettled Tsukishima. Nonsensically, it rattled him just as every other non-ordinary thing had today.
“Oh shit!” Kuroo said, walking into the lecture hall with his Adidas duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “What’s going on tonight? Sir, you’re looking a little dangerous. Whose girl are you stealing?”
Professor Ittetsu Takeda flushed and stuttered something about Kuroo’s use of inappropriate language in the classroom. It just made Kuroo laugh, and when Kuroo caught Tsukishima’s eye, it made Tsukishima smirk a little too.
Kuroo dropped his bag and plopped himself down next to Tsukishima. “What’s good, blondie?”
Tsukishima didn’t mind Kuroo, even if he would never admit it. He was loud and arrogant and a little too flirty with all the girls in the college, but he was surprisingly a mathematical genius without even needing to try too hard. The only reason he had enrolled in college at all had been the full academic scholarship he had miraculously been awarded, a scholarship that paid for his tuition and his living costs, giving him an unreasonable amount of disposable income every semester to blow on alcohol, clothes, and tech. It was almost ridiculous, that someone as clever as Kuroo was only here for the free money.
“And the smart girls.” Kuroo had corrected. “And the parties.”
“You haven’t done the reading.” Tsukishima said, not even needing to pose it as a question anymore. “I hope you fail this module.”
“I hope you fail too.” Kuroo said, smiling widely. “Why would I do the reading? This is Math, right? Not fucking Literature. Fuck, the girls in Literature are so hot.”
Tsukishima rolled his eyes, opening up his book app on his iPad to go to today’s chapter – Metric Spaces & Topology. “Aren’t you banned from that building?”
“I am not. Stop telling people that. You’ll make me seem like a creep.” Someone suddenly caught his eye, and he chuckled. “Hey, Hiroshi! You look so pretty in that cardigan!”
Hiroshi Sumire looked at Kuroo and flushed a little, saying something to her friends, and Kuroo sighed contentedly. “I love college, man. Work is easy. The people are beautiful. And the alcohol is free.”
“Where is the alcohol free?”
Sudden realisation dawned on Kuroo’s face. He seemed to be having uncharacteristically serious thoughts. Tsukishima waited, knowing that whatever it was would be a waste of brain power, knowing that it would most likely be about some party.
“You have to get me an invite to Oikawa’s party.”
Tsukishima laughed. Oikawa’s party? Tooru Oikawa? The most insufferable guy Tsukishima had ever accidentally met? The all-popular good guy athlete? How would he have an invite to Oikawa’s party?
“I know it’s short notice. It’s tonight, right? Listen, man, just…just get me in and I’ll stop bullying you about doing my homework.”
“You think I do your homework anyway?”
“I’ll set you up with my friend that does Chemistry. The brunette with the highlights.”
“I’m not into her.”
Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “You’re not? Whatever. I just bought a bunch of new games for my console. I’ll let you play them.”
That was tempting. That was very tempting, actually. So tempting that Tsukishima was now curious. “How would I have an invite to Oikawa’s party? We’re not friends.”
“I know that. But I know that your friend is going with his group, so I figured that you’d be in that group.”
Tsukishima knew where this was going, but he let it. He had to take a pause before continuing, but he continued. “Who?”
“Your friend. You know, the one with the piercings and the guitar. The one in that band.”
It was almost funny hearing Yamaguchi being described like that. It was so far from how he would be described in High School. Yamaguchi with the piercings and the guitar and the group of friends who weren’t Tsukishima. He had pretended not to notice before. It had been easy to. Whatever Yamaguchi did, whether he got piercings or learned to play guitar and started making friends, he would always drop everything for Tsukishima. It still always felt like it was just the two of them. Like it had always been.
But that was a lie, wasn’t it?
This was so stupid. Yamaguchi was really ignoring him? Just because Tsukishima had been a little meaner than usual?
But that was also a lie. He hadn’t been a ‘little meaner’. He had been downright cruel.
“Apparently it’s going to be this massive party, man.”
“On a Wednesday night?”
“Massive party.” Kuroo insisted. “Tsukishima, I haven’t been laid in 2 weeks. And you know who’s going to be there in your friend’s group? Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira.”
God, Tsukishima hated Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira.
“Alright, class. Welcome to Section 2 of Metric Spaces & Topology. I have uploaded your test scores from Section 1 and they should be released as soon as this class ends. Don’t worry if you’re not doing as well as you want, we’ve only just started. You have all semester to improve. Now, let’s begin.”
Kuroo sat back in his seat but nudged Tsukishima one last time. “Please,” he said, “get me in.” And then he tilted his head back to spend the rest of the lecture flirting with the girls sitting behind them.
*
Yamaguchi had joined the Portuguese Book Club a couple weeks after starting college. He had asked Tsukishima to join and so he had, but he had quit almost immediately. The whole premise of the Portuguese Book Club was to read books in Portuguese, and that was difficult for Tsukishima, who didn’t speak a single word of the language.
So Tsukishima had joined the Engineering Society instead. He didn’t mind it. There was never anything as interesting as the obscene smut in Yamaguchi’s 18th century love novels, but it killed time.
Yamaguchi had started learning how to play the bass guitar not too soon after he had joined the Book Club and had proven himself to be a natural at it. He’d picked it up astonishingly quickly, and although he would flush and say, “ah Tsukki, don’t make me!”, he would always play whenever Tsukishima asked him to.
After his first couple nervous breakdowns, Tsukishima had encouraged Yamaguchi to talk to a student counsellor. He felt helpless whenever Yamaguchi got like that. He never knew what to do, or say, and even though Yamaguchi would swear that just staying with him was enough, Tsukishima had wanted Yamaguchi to get more help through it. And it had helped. It had helped a lot, and the improvements had made Tsukishima very happy to see.
Not that he would ever admit that.
Yamaguchi studied Politics, International Relations, and a Foreign Language. The Foreign Language of his choice was English, because he already knew Portuguese and was already more than decent in Spanish. Apparently all the coolest people were on that fucking course, because by the end of the year Yamaguchi had a group of friends that would invite him to clubs, and parties, and trips.
What did that matter? What did any of them matter? Sure, Yamaguchi had broken out of his shell once they had left home, and sure, now everyone seemed to see in Yamaguchi what Tsukishima had already known was there, but none of them mattered. None of them were the ones that Yamaguchi would drop everything for, none of them knew Yamaguchi before the confidence and the piercings and the undercut.
Then, Yamaguchi had been asked to join a band at the beginning of this academic year; a band where Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira was the lead guitarist. A band that was pretty popular around campus, that had since made some cool internet hits in the semester and a half since Yamaguchi had joined them, a band that meant that Yamaguchi’s Instagram followers had risen from 109 to 9.2k.
Whatever. Tsukishima didn’t care about that, about any of that, not when he knew Yamaguchi would open his dorm door every Wednesday, insist they were going out for coffee, and say “Tsukki, stop grumbling! You know it’s our routine!” whenever Tsukishima would mutter an excuse about being busy.
He was never too busy for Yamaguchi. Somehow, even with his new friends and his new club and his new band, Yamaguchi was still never too busy for Tsukishima.
Another lie.
After the Engineering Society meetup, Tsukishima decided he would go to Yamaguchi’s dorm. They were friends, weren’t they? That meant they could visit each other whenever they wanted. Tsukishima bought a strawberry and lemon Frappuccino from the café because he knew it was Yamaguchi’s favourite drink, and he knew he should probably be a little nicer than usual.
After what happened on Sunday.
He had about an hour before his next Math class. He figured he wouldn’t need all that time. He would give Yamaguchi the drink, Yamaguchi would say “thank you, Tsukki!”, and everything would be fine again. Yamaguchi would forget about everything Tsukishima had said. Tsukishima would forget everything that had changed in Yamaguchi. And they would be fine.
Tsukishima paused when he approached Yamaguchi’s door, a cold thought pricking the side of his brain. Could he forget everything that had changed in Yamaguchi?
The door swung open before he had a chance to react. It was Yamaguchi’s roommate, Tanaka, and he stopped short when he saw Tsukishima. “Hey! It’s good ol’ Shima! Is that for me?”
“Of course not.” Tsukishima moved the drink out of reach when Tanaka tried to take it. “It’s for Yamaguchi.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “He’s not here. He’s with his friends.” Tanaka closed the door behind him. “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him if I see him!”
Tanaka ran down the hallway and then he was gone. Tsukishima continued to stand there, holding a cold, disgustingly sweet drink in his hand, and he wondered just how stupid today could get.
*
Tsukishima could see the hurt in Yamaguchi’s eyes, a deep hurt, deeper than anything he had ever really seen, but then the hurt was quickly choked out by anger. Yamaguchi was angry. He was furious, his eyebrows furrowing, his hands balling into fists, his jaw clenching.
Tsukishima felt his heart thud in his chest, felt his brain sound off an alarm that maybe he had gone too far, that maybe he hadn’t said what he meant, or meant what he had said.
“I’m sorry.” Tsukishima found himself saying. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
*
“You have reached the voicemail of Yama-”
Tsukishima hung up. He decided to go talk to Sugawara.
*
The Mental Wellbeing offices were located in the same building as the Student Body Services. As Tsukishima walked in, he was greeted with banners and posters in bright, contrasting colours, banners screaming ‘Find Out What the Student Body Can Do for You!’ and ‘Feeling Alone? There’s Always Someone Here for You!’
This was quite possibly the ugliest building on campus.
“No, we need that hall for next Thursday. We’ve already reached an agreement with the drama club.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but the Council needs it more.”
“You can’t just take it.” Suga said, somewhat in disbelief. “We’ve already-”
“I can.” Daichi countered. “But I’m sorry. I can help you find another room or-”
“Tsukishima!” Suga said, noticing Tsukishima slowly approaching them. He quickly put his smile and his happy energy moodlet back on, and somehow it didn’t at all feel insincere. “How are you?”
Tsukishima looked pointedly at Daichi, then again at Suga. Suga laughed airily, waving that away. “The Student Body President was just leaving. Come and have some cookies! The Baking Society just brought us a fresh batch.”
“Suga…” Daichi clearly wanted to say something, something that could rectify how bitter Suga’s feelings towards him were. “We can discuss this later. Maybe we can go out to din-”
“I think we’re done.” Suga said, not looking at him but still managing not to sound impolite. “Tsukishima, follow me.”
Tsukishima didn’t really care much about whatever Daichi and Suga’s dynamic was. He thought it was a little pathetic that Daichi was the cool, collected Student Body President that had confessed to being in love with Suga but still didn’t have the balls to do anything about it. Daichi was normally level-headed, strict, self-assured, but with Suga he was like a 13-year-old boy fumbling over his words as he spoke to his crush.
And Suga was nice and gentle, and he seemed to be nice and gentle to everyone, everyone that was not as annoying to him as the Student Body President was.
“How are you?” Suga asked him, gesturing to the plate of cookies. Tsukishima let himself take one as he sat down in one of the ridiculous bean bags. He was too tall to sit comfortably so he had to adjust several times to stop his legs from pushing him down to the floor.
Suga just smiled.
Tsukishima looked for something to say. He didn’t know what. He just knew he was deeply, deeply bothered by Yamaguchi. He knew he hated Yamaguchi and had probably hated him since college started. He also knew he didn’t hate him at all, not even a little.
“I’ve had a bad day.” Tsukishima said, settling on that. It was more honest than he would normally be to anyone who called themselves a Mental Health Rep. He expected some pamphlets to be brought out, something saying ‘Don’t be Sad you Fucking Dickhead! Be Happy!’.
Instead, Suga continued to look at him, no judgement, no expression besides maybe one of compassion, and Tsukishima frowned at just how personable Suga seemed.
“How are your classes?”
Good. Great. He had gotten an 89% on his test. Sure, he was a little pissed that Kuroo had gotten a 95%, but the classification was the same.
“And your roommate?”
Asahi was admittedly a good roommate. He didn’t talk much. He kept to himself. He was neat. And he could cook pretty well. Tsukishima could do without Nishinoya, but Nishinoya wasn’t too bad either. Tsukishima knew he had gotten lucky with the roommate situation.
“Family?”
His brother was good, living in peaceful bliss was his pregnant girlfriend. His mother was living with some family abroad, enjoying herself. They were all fine.
“Friends?”
Tsukishima took another cookie.
“Is today the only day you would describe as ‘bad’?”
No. Sunday had been a miserable day, but he didn’t want to think about that.
“How do I get Yamaguchi to forgive me?” He asked, which was all he wanted to know. Not all this bullshit questioning. “You talk to him a lot. You know what he would want.”
That seemed to confuse Suga. “I would know?” He asked. “And you wouldn’t?”
It had never been difficult before. Yamaguchi always just forgave him, no real conflict needed. He knew Tsukishima sometimes said things he didn’t mean. He understood that. Tsukishima would always forgive Yamaguchi too, in that same moment, whenever he did anything stupid. Yamaguchi never even really needed to apologise – Tsukishima would always just forgive him.
“Apologies serve a function. They allow you to communicate your reasoning, your remorse, how you’ll better yourself going forward. They help you heal. Not all the time, of course. But at times, it’s quite hard to truly forgive someone who never says sorry.”
But Tsukishima had said sorry.
He chuckled. “This is bullshit.”
“Tsukishima-”
“You’ve been talking to him for a year now and you didn’t think to maybe tell him that getting drunk every night with his waste-of-space friends was a bad idea? Or that maybe he should actually start going to classes again, because if he keeps failing he’ll get put on probation? Or how it’s fun to live the life of a rockstar, but now he’s just surrounded by drugs and sex and people who want to take advantage of him because he’s a pretty boy that plays the bass.”
Tsukishima could see it now. He could close his eyes and imagine Yamaguchi in front of him, running his fingers through Tsukishima’s hair and smiling dazedly. “Aww, Tsukki! You think I’m a pretty boy? That’s so embarrassing! Say it again.”
“That’s all I said to him on Sunday.”
That was a slight lie – that was the meaning of what Tsukishima had said, but he knew his words had been vicious, biting. He liked to think that he was the only one that Yamaguchi would drop everything for, but then the excuses of ‘sorry, I’m busy with the band!’ or ‘I won’t be in for the week! I’m going on a trip with friends!’ started piling up. Tsukishima would try and give Yamaguchi the benefit of the doubt, but he had seen the change. The good change, like the confidence and the expression through music and tattoos, and making more friends. But the bad change, too.
Sunday had been the final straw.
“You’re the same pathetic little shit that I tolerated back when we were kids. You think dressing up like you’re cool and pretending people actually like you is going to get you anywhere? You’re failing all your classes, you dipshit!”
Maybe he should have thought a little more about his words before he said them. Maybe Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira shouldn’t have been so fucking annoying and put Tsukishima in an even worse mood. Maybe he shouldn’t have barged in on their practice session and lost it when one of the other bandmates made some dumb joke about Yamaguchi’s boring babysitter being here, and maybe he shouldn’t have said all he had said in front of Yamaguchi’s friends.
Tsukishima had been so patient. He thought eventually Yamaguchi would realise how stupid he was being. He thought he would drop the party-boy Mr. Popular phase with just some time. He thought, and thought, and thought.
He thought they could go back to the summer before college had started, when Tsukishima had laid in bed and reached up to card his fingers through Yamaguchi’s shoulder-length hair, when he just had to tilt his head back and Yamaguchi would kiss him so deeply and earnestly it was as if nothing in the world mattered as much as the two of them.
The summer before college. What was that, two years ago?
Yamaguchi had gone to spend 2 weeks with his aunt in Brazil after that had happened, after their shift in friendship had happened. Tsukishima had waited for Yamaguchi to bring it up again once they started college together, but he hadn’t. Weeks passed. Months passed. Eventually Tsukishima hadn’t been able to wait any longer and just brought it up himself.
“What? Summer was great, Tsukki, what do you mean? Can we not talk about it? Please?”
Something had happened when Yamaguchi had gone to see his aunt in Brazil, something that had made him a high-strung emotional ticking bomb when college had first started. Tsukishima had been there for him, of course, as always, as Yamaguchi would if the roles were reversed.
Nothing came of that summer. Nothing could even really prove that it happened. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe the weather had been too hot and a heat stroke had caused Tsukishima to dream of Yamaguchi leaning up to kiss him, or Yamaguchi pulling him down on his bed, of sighs and whispers and stupid, stupid, stupid romantic bliss.
“Tsya!” Yamaguchi had said one night, when the windows in Tsukishima’s room had all been opened because it was far too hot to endure the night otherwise. He pronounce it like ‘soo-yah’. “That’s the first two letters of both our names. Isn’t that cute, Tsukki?”
“It’s lame.” Tsukishima had said. He could remember that moment, of Yamaguchi using Tsukishima as a body pillow, of Yamaguchi brushing his fingers against Tsukishima’s collar bone. “Why not Yats?”
“It’s both.”
“Both?”
“It goes both ways.” Yamaguchi said solemnly, like this was a serious piece of information he was transmitting. “There’s also Take.” Said like ‘tah-keh’. “And Keta.” Said like ‘keh-tah’. “That’s our first names.” He leaned up to smile at Tsukishima, making direct eye-to-eye contact and making Tsukishima’s face unwillingly flood red. “I’m writing Tsya on all your things.”
“I’ll kill you if you do.”
“No you won’t.” Yamaguchi said, devilishly sweet. He suddenly got out of bed. “I’m doing it now!”
Tsukishima was aware he was in a state of agonising emotional pain. It felt stupid. Stupid like the stupid nickname Tsya. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Why did Sunday push you over the edge?”
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“This behaviour had been happening before, you said. So what caused Sunday to be so bad?”
What kind of braindead question was that? “We had plans on Sunday. He cancelled, like he had the past several weeks. What, so if the plans weren’t important, him blowing me off each time would be fine?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“I should schedule a whole fucking appointment to see him? Is that what I need to do now? Sunday wasn’t important. It wasn’t.” But it was. It had been. It had been so fucking important. “What, you study Psychology for 3 years and now you think you can solve my problems? If that’s the case, I would have at least gone with-”
“Tsukishima.”
Tsukishima stopped, surprised at the tone. Suga’s voice was warning, but not for his own sake, not for the hurt that he could possibly feel. Do you really want to say what you’re about to say? Do you really mean it?
Tsukishima didn’t, so he stopped that sentence, letting it die off. He looked at the cookie in his hand, and he knew the emotional pain he had somehow found himself in was quite easily among the worst pain he had ever felt. It felt heavy and uncomfortably stifling, like the stickiness of the icing from the cookie that was now coating his fingers.
“I was going to tell him I’m in love with him.” Tsukishima said, his voice quiet yet monotone, like usual, like it was an ordinary thing to talk about on an ordinary day. “I thought that would snap him out of this.”
Suga nodded, not even surprised by Tsukishima’s confession. “You want to tell him you’re in love with him so that he’ll change his behaviour?”
Tsukishima nodded. “Yeah.”
“Tsukishima, that seems a little manipulative.”
“How?” Tsukishima was suddenly being kicked with embarrassment, an embarrassment suspiciously close to shame. He had never said that before, that he was in love with Yamaguchi, not even to himself. This wasn’t the way it should go, when Character B tells Character C they’re in love with Character A. There should be ‘awws’ and ‘I knew it!’ and ‘you two will be so cute together!’.
Instead, Tsukishima could feel his face flood with red.
“Telling someone you love them in the hopes that it will change their behaviour is unfair, it’s emotional manipulation.”
“But that…” Tsukishima hated this. Couldn’t he want both? Couldn’t he want Yamaguchi to go back to how he was before and be in love with him? Why did one have to cancel out the other? “That’s not why. I wanted to tell him so that he knows where I stand, so that I won’t lose him. That’s why. That’s why, Suga, so I won’t lose him.”
Tsukishima wouldn’t have felt the need to ever tell him. Sure, it would be uncomfortable, but he could survive with just knowing that he was in love and not verbally saying so. But then everything changed, and Yamaguchi had grown distant even on days when they were together, and Tsukishima now needed Yamaguchi to know how much he cared, how much he needed him.
Stupid, wasn’t it?
“Oh, I misunderstood.” Suga said, smiling, and Tsukishima didn’t correct him on the fact that he hadn’t really misunderstood. “You want him to know how much you care about him, how much you value him in your life?” Tsukishima nodded. “That’s lovely, Tsukishima.”
The embarrassment faded a little. He felt more confident again, even if only slightly.
“I don’t need him to say it back.” Tsukishima went on. “I don’t give a shit if he feels the same way or not.” That was an absolute lie, and Suga undoubtedly knew that. “I just want him to know.”
“If you want him to know, you should tell him.”
Tsukishima somehow felt a lot better. This meeting had been very strange for him emotionally, but maybe talking his feelings out wasn’t so bad. He could probably only ever do so with Yamaguchi or Suga, but he would admit that it wasn’t so bad.
“I’ll apologise first.” Tsukishima said. “Properly.”
“That sounds like a great start. Be careful with your words, I would say. I know, and I’m sure Yamaguchi knows, that sometimes you say things you don’t mean, but even if you don’t mean them they can still be very hurtful.”
Tsukishima nodded. If anyone else was telling him this he would have made fun of them for being a sensitive crybaby. But he understood, and as much as Yamaguchi knew Tsukishima, his words still hurt him whenever they slipped out.
“You think I don’t see you making a fool of yourself, parading your stupid jeans and your stupid piercings to people who couldn’t care less? You think your band is actually any good? You’re wasting your time and it’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. You’re so fucking pathetic.”
There had been a deep fear ever since Sunday, a fear that had grown an infinite amount today, a fear that gripped him now. He had said awful, vile things to Yamaguchi in front of Yamaguchi’s friends. Things he didn’t mean, yes, but he things he had said nonetheless.
Would Yamaguchi forgive him? He had to.
He had to.
“I want to do it tonight.” Tsukishima said. He glanced at his watch – he was late to his class, but he didn’t care. “At Oikawa’s party.”
Suga’s eyes brightened. “Oh? You’re going to that too? You should join me and the girls. We’re all going together.”
*
Tsukishima felt a little bad for unleashing Kuroo on Shimizu and Yachi. A little bad. Not bad enough to pay them more attention, but he figured if he was going to allow himself to be emotional today, he would allow himself to feel bad about situations that he created. Yachi seemed absolutely horrified at how flirtatious Kuroo was, while Shimizu and Suga were talking about how to rectify losing the hall on Thursday and effectively ignoring any and all attempts Kuroo made to get Shimizu’s attention. Kuroo was the most excited out of all of them. He had already seen the posts people at the party had made, and at every new photo he would sling his arm around Tsukishima and shove his phone into his face, “Blondie,” he would say each time, “look at this.”
Tsukishima pushed him off each time. He didn’t care about the ‘great music’ or the ‘open bar’ or the ‘stripper poles’. He had no idea why Oikawa was throwing such an outlandish party on a Wednesday but to be honest, he didn’t truly care. He just cared about finding Yamaguchi, apologising, and telling him he should stop being a whiny childish idiot and love him back.
Tsukishima frowned to himself. Okay, maybe he should rehearse his lines beforehand.
“Tsukishima,” Suga said, noticing Tsukishima’s expression, “enjoy this party too, okay? You work hard. You deserve a break.”
Tsukishima didn’t know how to respond to that, because it implied more than just ‘you get good grades so you must work hard’. Most of what Tsukishima knew about Suga was through Yamaguchi, and vice versa. Suga wouldn’t know Tsukishima worked hard, not without Yamaguchi telling him that.
Suga smiled warmly at Tsukishima, encouragingly patting his shoulder. “Here we are.”
It wasn’t a frat house exactly, but several of the top athletes in college had been given their own house, completely free of charge, in exchange for agreeing to be advertising fodder for the college’s sports programme. The only people who ever had access to this house were the athletes themselves, the friends they invited, and the groupies that worshipped them.
And tonight, Tsukishima had somehow fallen into one of those 3 categories.
Tsukishima recognised the guy who opened the door when Suga knocked on it. Hajime Iwaizumi. He nodded in acknowledgement when he saw Suga, who smiled warmly at him. “It’s a big party for a Wednesday.” Suga said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Is there a special occasion?”
“Yeah.” Iwaizumi nodded once. “Oikawa’s lost his mind.”
They spoke some more, Iwaizumi occasionally looking at the others, mostly expressionless, uncaring. Suga was asking for clarification on ‘Oikawa’s lost his mind’ but Iwaizumi, monotone, claimed it was a joke. Tsukishima really couldn’t care less, but Suga was seemingly incapable of not caring about anyone and everyone. “Friends of yours?” Iwaizumi asked, settling on Tsukishima in particular, looking him over. Tsukishima glared back at him, but he would endure this without cussing him out. He would endure a stuck-up popular athlete scrutinising him if it meant he got to talk to Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi better be so fucking grateful.
“Any friend of Suga is a friend of ours.” Iwaizumi said once Suga introduced them all. He stepped back and opened the door wider. “All drinks are free.”
Kuroo disappeared almost immediately. Tsukishima wouldn’t outwardly admit it, but part of him had hoped Kuroo would stick around at least until he found Yamaguchi, just so he wouldn’t have to endure this alone. But whatever. Kuroo was here to get drunk and get laid, and Tsukishima didn’t expect any different.
The music was loud, the people were louder, and the decorations were extravagant. There had been a fierce legal battle a couple years ago about college athletes and sponsorships, and since then, sponsors would send over whatever they could to the athletes with the biggest followings to try and convince them to sign on to their brands once they graduated. In the meantime, all sponsorships had to go through the college. There were also gifts from professional sports teams for the exact same reason, and this explained the ridiculous furniture. There were lights that strobed in black, red, and blue. There was a floating pool table being used for beer pong. There was a bar that snaked around the room and had 5 different bartenders serving drinks.
Tsukishima scoffed. Ridiculous.
He followed Suga and Shimizu and Yachi. Further into the house, in the room where the music was loudest, there were 3 metal poles, all currently occupied. The strength needed to pole dance was impressive, Tsukishima would admit, and they were all dressed in white, dancing on black poles, while the lights were dim and red. Aesthetically, it was brilliantly coordinated, and even if most people probably weren’t focused on that, Tsukishima would begrudgingly give credit where it was due.
They kept walking. There were more people in this room, people who were dancing and smiling and touching each other, and Tsukishima cringed as he squeezed through. How was this in any way enjoyable? He had been to some of these parties in his first year because Kuroo had invited him, but they had all been so dull, so, so, so dull, and he probably would have died from boredom had Yamaguchi not been there to snicker about people coupling up and how embarrassing they all acted when they were drunk.
He lost Suga and the others in that room. Still, he kept moving. He knew Yamaguchi would probably be in a quieter room with one of his many groups of friends, maybe even all of them. He was fine with that. He was fine with apologising in front of all of them, of talking about his feelings in front of all of them, because neither of those 2 things embarrassed him. Or rather, the embarrassment he might feel was not even close to the need for Yamaguchi to forgive him, the need to have Yamaguchi back in his life.
He would say, “Yamaguchi, I’m sorry,” and he would mean it with all that was in him, and he would continue and say, “I didn’t mean what I said. I have a really fucked up habit of lashing out whenever I feel attacked, of wanting to make people feel worse than I do. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I think you’re amazing. I think you’re the best person I’ll ever meet. I’m in love with you.”
And Yamaguchi might grumble but he would forgive him, and he would forget those awful friends and he would stop partying so much and skipping classes and going to places he shouldn’t.
And things would be fine.
The music got quieter as Tsukishima walked in and out of the many, many, many rooms of the house. He walked upstairs, sidestepping the people dry humping against the walls, stepping over the drunk people passed out on the floor, and kept going, repeating his words in his head. Eventually, as he walked even further into the house, the bassline of the downstairs music faded entirely. In a few rooms it was completely quiet.
And then he heard it.
A different bassline. Laughter. A bassline that was being played by someone who had spent only months mastering the instrument.
Yamaguchi.
Tsukishima didn’t walk in. He hesitated, looking through the open door instead. Yamaguchi was there with his bandmates and some others, strumming his bass guitar as people chatted around him. Also there was Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira, whom Tsukishima hated, who was sitting next to Yamaguchi and laughing every time he looked up to say something.
“No, wait, it goes like this.” Yamaguchi said, sitting up slightly and strumming his guitar again. He started singing under his breath, flushing slightly when he glanced up and saw everyone watching him. His voice was rough but it carried a tune well, and it was a little too talky but it suited him perfectly. Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira might as well have been looking at the sun with how starry eyed she got.
Yamaguchi was done. Everyone started talking at once. “That was incredible!” “Is that song out yet?” “You should sing more!” Like fucking groupies.
Tsukishima continued to stand and watch.
“It’s not out yet.” Yamaguchi said, rubbing his shoulder. “We haven’t even finished recording it yet. We’re spending a week in Seoul because this producer invited us out. Uh…it seems cool, I guess.”
“You’re spending a week in Korea? That’s so cool!”
Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira agreed that it was in fact very cool. Tsukishima didn’t like how close they were, her and Yamaguchi, but jealousy felt like the wrong word to describe it. He wasn’t jealous. He was irritated. He might have been jealous if it was someone of a better personal character, someone who was more deserving of Yamaguchi, but it wasn’t. It would be like being jealous of a partner’s very annoying, persistent pet.
The conversation broke into parts. Yamaguchi continued to speak to Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira. Tsukishima couldn’t hear what they were saying but he picked up on the fact that it was in Portuguese. Yamaguchi didn’t pull away when she brushed some hair out of his face, and he didn’t flinch when she leaned in. Tsukishima felt himself enter the room before he could even acknowledge his own movements, because maybe he was jealous now. Maybe seeing Yamaguchi let his eyes close as Foreign Exchange Student Soph Teixeira leaned in to kiss him pushed that irritation into jealousy.
“Hey look!” One of the bandmates called out, hitting Yamaguchi’s shoulder for his attention. “It’s Mr. Boring Babysitter.”
Tsukishima let that slide.
Yamaguchi opened his eyes, turning to stare at Tsukishima. What had he been expecting, really? For Yamaguchi to be all smiles and laughs after what had happened on Sunday? Maybe. He should have prepared for this, though, that Yamaguchi would glare at him in a way he had never done before, that all of Yamaguchi’s friends would share the same disdainful stare as they watched him approach.
But he would let that all slide.
“Hey, what’s yer name?” The guy to the right of Yamaguchi said, the guy that had been at Yamaguchi’s table this morning at the Food Hall. “Aww, don’t be like that. I’m just asking for yer name. I’m Atsumu Miya.” He held out his hand, a confident smile on his face. The smile stayed on even when he dropped his hand. “Heh, you’re not very good at introductions, are ya?”
Tsukishima ignored him. He wasn’t here for any of that. He was here for Yamaguchi.
“I’m sorry.” Tsukishima started. “I-”
“Who is this guy?” Atsumu Miya said, looking at all of the others. “Oi, Sakusa, do you know him?”
“He’s Yamaguchi’s high school friend.”
“Oh. You’re in high school?”
“No, you dumbass. He was Yamaguchi’s friend when they were both in high school.”
“Don’t interrupt him.” Another guy said, a guy who looked just like Atsumu Miya except for his hair colour. “He was apologising to Yamaguchi.”
“I don’t want an apology.”
Everyone turned to Yamaguchi. Tsukishima had stayed focused on him the whole time, but those words made his stomach churn. He had forced himself not to correct Yamaguchi’s friends on the fact that he had known Yamaguchi since they were both kids, way before high school, just so he could really focus on his apology, but he hadn’t anticipated that response.
“Hey,” Atsumu Miya said to Tsukishima, as if he wasn’t aware of the situation in the room, “I know who you are! I heard what you said to Kageyama this morning.” He laughed a little. “You pretty much crushed what motivation he had left. Rumour has it he’s been going through a rough time lately, y'know? He’ll get over it, but still.”
“What did he say to Kageyama?”
“I’m sorry for what I said on Sunday.” Tsukishima said, powering through anyway. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean the words I said. I never meant to hurt you. I-”
“Tsukishima, I don’t care.” Yamaguchi said. “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it. Just stop.”
Yamaguchi had never sounded like this before, or looked like this before. It was throwing Tsukishima off. The whole situation was throwing him off, and he didn’t know what to do.
“I didn’t mean it.” Tsukishima insisted. “I don’t think you’re pathetic, or looking for attention, or-”
“Wow, is that what you said to him?” Atsumu Miya asked, looking strangely impressed. “You two were best friends, right? Hey, Tsukishima’s your name, right? You should look more apologetic. Right now you look annoyed.”
How was Yamaguchi not commending him for biting his tongue? Ordinarily Tsukishima would have said something to Atsumu Miya by now, something to shut him up permanently. Wasn’t Yamaguchi noticing that?
“Can we talk somewhere else?” Tsukishima asked him. His plan of doing this in front of his friends wasn’t working because all Yamaguchi’s friends were annoying bastards.
Himself included.
“There’s nothing you can say.” Yamaguchi said. “There’s nothing I want to hear.”
“But I didn’t mean any of it.”
“You did, Tsukishima. You hate that I’m happy now.”
Tsukishima was truly caught off guard by that. “What?”
“You hate that I have friends that aren’t you, that I don’t need to go sulk to you, that I’m more confident. I know you hate it. I hear how you talk about my friends, my band, how I look, what I do. Why are you even here apologising? What do you want?”
“Don’t be stupid. I don’t give a shit about your hobbies. I just-”
“Then why are you here?” Yamaguchi demanded, standing up. “What do you expect to happen, Kei? We’ve outgrown each other! That’s what you’ve been wanting to say, isn’t it? That’s what your words on Sunday meant!”
“Stop. Just, think a little, okay? I didn’t mean the words I said on Sunday. None of it. I meant none of it. I was just angry at you for blowing me off.”
“Why would I want to hang out with someone who hates me?”
“I don’t fucking hate you, you idiot.”
“Tsukishima, stop. Please.”
“Do you remember that summer before college?”
“Stop.”
“I was going to tell you something before you left to Brazil. The same thing I was going to tell you on Sunday.”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I-”
“Ah, Kei, you’re awful! You’re awful to me! You’ve always said the meanest things and never apologised, and I’ve just always gone back to you! You always say you don’t mean it, but then how do I know what you do mean? How do I know you won’t take back what you’re about to say? I don’t want an apology from you, I don’t want to be your friend, I just never want to see you again. That summer meant nothing! It was two years ago, get over it! I didn’t mean it!”
Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. Yamaguchi had made him watch a bunch of dumb dramas when they were younger, and he recognised scenes like this. Scenes where there would be a big fight, the characters would insist they didn’t care for each other, and there would be a stupid plot arc of them eventually coming to forgive each other.
Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. He was, though, discovering that he was more human than he thought. Words hurt him, apparently.
“I don’t like being your friend.” Yamaguchi said to him, and he sounded honest but Tsukishima continued to insist that he wasn’t, not really. “You don’t like being mine. I have other friends. I don’t need you to keep making me miserable.”
Tsukishima glanced around him, at all the stares he was getting. He thought of his words to Hinata and Kageyama this morning, of what their effect would be, and how he hadn’t even considered that until now.
“Tadashi, I-”
“Don’t. If you say it, I won’t say it back. If you say it, you’ll mean it until you decide you don’t.”
Tsukishima felt defeated. He had gone into this with too much confidence, not enough foresight, not enough patience.
Had he lost?
“I’m sorry about Sunday.” He tried one last time. He would just stick to the apology, then. “I didn’t mean what I said to you. I was jealous. I know I lash out at people, and I know it hurts them. I’m sorry. I should have been a better friend to you. I’m sorry. I think you’re talented, I think your band is good, I think you’re a far better person than I am. I’ve always thought that.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, but he kept going. “You know when I mean something and when I don’t. I’m not going to let you use the excuse of not knowing if I’ll take something back the next day. And I don’t need you to say it back. I just need you to know it’s there, that that’s how I feel.” He swallowed again. It was painful, like there was something sharp stuck in his throat. “You don’t have to forgive me, but-”
“I don’t.”
There was nothing more to be said, and Tsukishima knew this. He knew this, so he just nodded, giving Yamaguchi another second in case he wanted to say anything else, and then walked out of the room.
*
The party wasn’t any more or less bearable. Kuroo was drunk, too drunk, and so Tsukishima tasked himself with taking him back to his dorm. He saw Suga briefly, and saw Daichi trying and failing to get his attention. He didn’t want to talk to Suga, not right now. Maybe he would talk to him tomorrow. Maybe he would sign up for the counsellor programme and actually talk to someone about human emotions that he, as a human, was feeling.
It wasn’t so bad. As Tsukishima dragged Kuroo to the dorms, he thought that it wasn’t so bad. It would be worse if something intangible had caused this, like sudden amnesia, or Yamaguchi falling in love with someone else, or maybe an apocalypse. This had been caused by Tsukishima’s words and actions, and so he had someone to blame, someone to hold accountable.
“I don’t want to…I don’t want to go back.” Kuroo slurred. “I don’t…Kenma won’t be there.”
“Of course he won’t.” Tsukishima said, sighing. “You left him.”
Kuroo shot up like he had been stung. He pushed away from Tsukishima but was too drunk to have any sort of reasonable coordination in his movements. Tsukishima caught him again when he inevitably tripped over his own feet and continued hauling him back to accommodation.
“Don’t say that to me.” Kuroo said. “I’m getting over it.”
Tsukishima doubted that. Kuroo had been in the process of getting over Kenma since the beginning of this year, and he was still in the same place. He had never admitted to it, though, that he was still in the process of getting over it, so this was a refreshing first, even if he was drunk and wouldn’t remember admitting to it later in the morning.
Tsukishima walked back to his own dorm after dropping Kuroo in front of his dorm. He walked as slowly as he could. When he arrived, he was no closer to any sort of epiphany than when he had left the party. Asahi was here, still awake, cooking in the kitchen, listening to a podcast about film. Tsukishima stood by the door, letting his eyes close, and listened.
“The film closes on a lingering shot of the main actress. She’s saying something but it’s unintelligible. It sounds like she’s begging, but who is she pleading to? I think the director shot this scene beautifully-”
“Tsukishima!” Asahi noticed Tsukishima by the door. “Sorry, is it too loud?”
Tsukishima shook his head. He ran his hand over his face, up to his hair and pulling on it. “No. It’s not.” He looked at what Asahi was cooking, at the sizzling pork and boiling vegetables and steaming rice. He realised he had not eaten at all that day. “I’m hungry.”
Asahi smiled. “Wait 10 minutes. I’ll get you a plate.”
True to his word, roughly 10 minutes later Asahi set down 2 plates on the table. Besides the podcast that Tsukishima insisted Asahi leave playing, it was silent. The food was amazing as it always was, and Tsukishima tapped his spoon against this plate as he let his thoughts settle.
“You’re a good roommate.” He suddenly said. Asahi’s eyes widened to the size of the plates they were eating off of. “I never say that, but you don’t suck to live with.”
Asahi flushed a weird shade of pink. “Thank you. You’re a good roommate too. I’m not just saying that.” He quickly added when Tsukishima looked sceptical. “You clean up all the time, you always keep the fridge stocked, and you’re nice company. Sometimes.”
Tsukishima smiled a little. Sometimes.
“I’m going to apologise to Kageyama tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s already today.”
“Today, then.” Tsukishima said, rolling his eyes. “And I think I’ll sign up for Suga’s Mental Health Rep programme.”
Asahi smiled at him. “Really?”
“Mmm.”
“I think that would be good for you, Tsukishima.”
“Mmm.”
“It’s cold, isn’t it? I’m going to turn on the heater.”
Tsukishima cleared away the dishes. He sat behind his desk when he was done, picking up the first notebook on his table and opening it. He was a human with human emotions on a day that wasn’t ordinary, and that was okay. Maybe he was heartbroken but he would figure that out later. Right now, he just wanted to be human.
“Oh, I meant to ask.” Asahi said from the other room. “What brand is that notebook? Suya?”
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“It’s just, there is some brand name all over the inside cover of the back page. It fell open today and I saw it when I picked it up.”
A brand name all over the inside cover of the back page. Tsukishima frowned. He had bought this notebook – at an unreasonable price, really, but the spine was bound in leather – 2 months ago. As far as he knew, there was no brand plastered all over it.
He flipped to the inside of the back page.
There was a blank second’s pause in his mind. A pause that played silent videos of a summer that never happened in his mind. A memory gave itself to him, where Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were making fun of a group of loser tennis players at an American fastfood shop, where Tsukishima was pretending Yamaguchi’s foot wasn’t purposefully rubbing against his ankle, where Yamaguchi was pretending Tsukishima’s hand wasn’t squeezing his knee.
He was heartbroken.
Another memory. Yamaguchi was bragging to someone about Tsukishima’s height, and even though it was a useless thing to brag about, Tsukishima allowed it. He allowed Yamaguchi to press his hand against the top of Tsukishima’s head and insist he was a few centimetres taller than he actually was. There was a moment when their eyes met, when Tsukishima’s hand caught Yamaguchi’s wrist before he could pull away.
The music shop. When Tsukishima had kissed Yamaguchi for the first time.
He smiled to himself again as he idly traced his fingers over the letters. The same 4 letters over and over again. On a notebook he had only bought 2 months ago. Of a 4 letter word that had died in the same summer it had been born, 2 years ago. In handwriting he would recognise before his own.
Tsya.
Tsya.
Tsya.