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Tsukishima wasn’t entirely sure how this arrangement started. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when their friendship shifted into some strange gray area. Of course, he remembered the moment that he and Yamaguchi met. He remembered the way that Yamaguchi followed him around. He remembered when they joined the volleyball club together in middle school. He remembered the way that Yamaguchi comforted him when his older brother turned out to be lying about his role on the Karasuno team.
Then when they got to high school, they joined the team too. Yamaguchi was always there beside Tsukishima. At some point over those years, Yamaguchi went from being this pathetic little puppy dog, still worried about bullies and thinking of Tsukishima as some kind of body guard or something, to his friend. It was a gradual shift. That’s the way their friendship worked, slowly evolving over time. And Tsukishima supposed this was the natural progression of things.
Perhaps the next phase of their friendship began one day when they were walking home from school together and Tsukishima for once didn’t have his hand shoved down in his pocket. His hand swung lazily by his hip, and likewise Yamaguchi’s dangled at his side. Their knuckles brushed against each other, but neither pulled away or side stepped to give the other more room. That persisted for about a week. Then, on a Friday, Tsukishima felt his pinky grab hold of Yamaguchi’s. He didn’t know which of them really initiated it, but again, neither pulled away.
Then there was the rainy day that Tsukishima forgot his umbrella, which was rather out of character for him. Yamaguchi made fun of him, relishing the opportunity since he was usually on the receiving end of such ribbing. But he relented quickly and let Tsukishima walk under it with him. They huddled together, both trying to avoid rain soaking their shoulders. It was hard, since Tsukishima was a pretty big guy, and with Yamaguchi holding the umbrella, he had to walk somewhat hunched over. Tsuki got tired of walking like an old man and tried to take the umbrella from Yamaguchi’s grasp, lifting it up higher, affording him the chance to walk upright, all the while blaming Yamaguchi for having a shorter stature. But Yamaguchi didn’t let go of the umbrella, so their hands overlapped on the handle.
After the umbrella incident, they found that their hands tangled together of their own volition on their walk home, always once they were out of sight of the other guys on the Karasuno team. In colder months, Tsukishima would yank Yamaguchi’s hand into his pocket. And he stopped wearing headphones, favoring earbuds so he could share his music with Yamaguchi. In order to make sure they stayed put in their ears, they walked closely, shoulders touching.
Eventually, Yamaguchi stopped sitting on the other end of the couch whenever they watched movies together at Tsukishima’s house. They inched closer and closer until they sat with their thighs touching. Tsukishima’s arm went from being casually tossed over the back of the couch to draping over Yamaguchi’s shoulder, then from his shoulder to his waist. And Yamaguchi went from sitting as upright as possible, to resting his head on Tsukishima’s shoulder to slouching completely into his side, to occasionally laying his head in his lap.
So the friendly relationship now included hand-holding and cuddling. Tsukishima wasn’t that surprised by the development. Honestly, Yamaguchi was kind of his only friend, or at least his only close friend since the guys on the volleyball team barely counted, so he wasn’t sure how typical this was. Tsukishima wasn’t an overly affectionate guy by any means. In words, he was more likely to insult Yamaguchi than to encourage or uplift him. But this stuff was easy. It didn’t take any effort, any forethought, any special consideration. Yamaguchi was like a puzzle piece that naturally slotted into him when it came to touching. And Yamaguchi didn’t say anything to indicate that he was uncomfortable with any of it, so Tsukishima didn’t worry about it.
However, when Yamaguchi started slipping into his bed during sleepovers instead of on the futon on the floor, Tsukishima wondered if something else might be going on besides close friendship. So the first time it happened, he said something. “Yamaguchi, what do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s cold, Tsuki,” he replied with a slurring voice as he pulled the covers over his shoulder. He was half asleep.
“Well, fine.” Tsukishima rolled toward the wall so the two lay back to back.
The next time Yamaguchi got into Tsukishima’s bed, he backed himself into the taller boy so their backs were touching now. And the next time after that, Tsukishima didn’t face away, letting his chest rest against Yamaguchi’s back. “Are you cold?” he asked, not thinking about how close his breath was to his friend’s ear.
“Maybe, a little,” Yamaguchi had told him with a shrug.
Tsukishima cautiously placed his arm over Yamaguchi, feeling no goosebumps on the other boy’s skin, but he didn’t retract. It was comfortable enough.
After that, Yamaguchi just got into Tsukishima’s bed from the beginning and made no pretense about the temperature of the room. And Tsukishima would pull him closer to his body, sometimes letting him sleep with his head resting on his chest.
But still, Tsukishima didn’t say anything. He didn’t question what this meant for their friendship, if anything. He was fine with it, after all. If he didn’t like it, he would have said something. He would have physically kicked Yamaguchi out of his bed, he would have shoved him off whenever they watched movies together. He wouldn’t have rubbed circles into Yamaguchi’s hand with his thumb while he held it in his jacket pocket.
Yamaguchi’s hair started to look pretty appealing after that for some reason. So watching movies now entailed Tsukishima absent-mindedly playing with it, weaving his fingers into the mossy brown mop on the other boy’s head. Sometimes, Yamaguchi’s hand would rest on Tsukishima’s increasingly muscular thighs. Then other times, Tsukishima would lay flat on the couch while Yamaguchi lay on top of him, Tsukishima’s hands folded over the smaller boy’s back.
These moments were still private, but at this point, sometimes Tsukishima would catch himself brushing Yamaguchi’s bangs out of his face during volleyball practice. And Tsukishima realized that more often than not, when Yamaguchi would hand him a water bottle to drink from, he was actually sharing his own with him.
One day, Hinata teased him about it. “If Tsukishima wasn’t such a jerk wad, I’d think that he’s acting nicer to Tadashi!”
Tsukishima just scowled in the direction of the tiny ginger, which caused Hinata to straighten up and walk away.
Yamaguchi didn’t seem to pay the comment any mind, simply shrugging as if he had no idea what Hinata was on about.
But if Tsukishima thought for a minute that Yamaguchi would get embarrassed and hold back from their increased affection, he would be wrong, which further proved Tsukishima’s theory that Yamaguchi didn’t think anything of it. And no one else on the volleyball team said anything else after that. So it must be normal for Yamaguchi to high five Tsukishima after every half-way decent play and to throw his arm around him when they walked back to the club room to change after practice.
Perhaps the biggest development came when Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were studying together after school one day. Yamaguchi collapsed back onto his bedroom floor with a groan after about an hour of working away on their English homework. “I’m bored, Tsuki,” he complained.
Tsukishima’s initial reaction was to tell him to shut up. But after a moment he sighed and agreed that the English homework was not difficult or challenging, but rather tedious. He closed his notebook on the low table and shoved it into his bag. “So what would you rather do?”
Yamaguchi just shrugged. “Anything else.”
Tsukishima’s lip cocked into a smirk. “C’mere,” he beckoned.
Yamaguchi crawled across the floor until he was seated on his knees in front of Tsukishima.
One of his long arms draped over Yamaguchi’s shoulder and he yanked him toward himself. The two boys fell backward on the floor, knocking the breath from both of their lungs. Yamaguchi laughed into Tsukishima’s shoulder when he recovered. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Tsukishima replied with a shrug, his arm having slid down to Yamaguchi’s waist. “You said you were bored.”
Yamaguchi’s eyes met Tsukishima’s as he lifted himself over the taller boy’s body, one hand on either side of Tsukishima’s blond head, his legs still folded, kneeling on one side of Tsukishima’s hips. “I-I am bored,” Yamaguchi said.
Tsukishima licked his lips, not exactly as an invitation, but perhaps something like that. He began to sit up himself now, propping his torso up on his free elbow, the other arm still occupied with holding Yamaguchi’s waist. “What should we do?” he asked in a low voice, his head moving slowly toward Yamaguchi’s, or maybe it was Yamaguchi’s head leaning toward his. First their foreheads made contact. Then their jaws moved toward each other.
“Wait!” Yamaguchi said when their lips were only millimeters apart.
Tsukishima’s eyes fluttered open. “What?” he asked, pulling away, pretending he had no idea what was about to happen.
Yamaguchi shook his head, leaned back on his heels and put his hands over his face. “What were we about to do?” he asked from behind the shield of his palms.
“I don’t know,” Tsukishima lied. Even with Yamaguchi covering his freckled face with his hands, Tsukishima could see that he was blushing. His ears looked sunburnt red. “It’s no big deal,” he said cooly.
“It’s not?” Yamaguchi asked, lowering his hands from his face. “But… I’ve never done that before.”
Tsukishima just shrugged.
“I mean, what would I tell my grandkids? That my first kiss was with my best friend?” Yamaguchi said, before slapping a hand over his mouth. He really named it. He admitted out loud that they had been about to kiss.
“That sounds pretty normal to me,” Tsukishima replied blandly, somehow managing to maintain his usual blank expression.
“O-okay,” Yamaguchi said. “So should we then?”
Tsukishima didn’t reply, instead opting to tug Yamaguchi back toward him by the wrist. He caught Yamaguchi by the shoulders. And then without sparing another thought to the subject, their lips met. It was brief, barely lasting a second. Tsukishima pulled back, observing that Yamaguchi’s face had not become any less strawberry-like. “Now it’s over with,” he said matter-of-factly. “So anything after this is nothing.”
“Nothing?” Yamaguchi said, his fingers raised to brush over where Tsukishima’s lips had just been. The splotchy redness on his cheeks faded.
And it was like nothing, in a sense. After that, kissing was a regular occurrence for the two. They would study, get bored, trade kisses, then go back to their homework. As with most things, these kisses were reserved for privacy. Even if Tsukishima had still managed to convince himself that kissing his best friend was normal, he still had the sense not to do it in front of other people.
So, which had been the precise moment that set the two of them on this path? Tsukishima wasn’t sure, but he recognized the moment that the path came to an abrupt deadend, or rather the moment the path ended at a sheer cliff.
It was late on a Friday night at Tsukishima’s house. The two had finished their homework and the plan was for Yamaguchi to stay the night again. They had Saturday practice in the morning and Tsukishima lived a tiny bit closer to the school, so it was a decent excuse… Not that they really needed one.
Yamaguchi was laying on Tsukishima’s bed and Tsukishima was holding himself up over him. Tsukishima’s whole family was in bed at this point, and as far as they were concerned, the boys were probably asleep too. Except they weren’t. The lights were off, save one lamp on Tsukishima’s desk, which he had tossed a t-shirt over top of to dim. He didn’t like kissing in a pitch black room. He liked being able to see what he was doing.
Tsukishima pressed his mouth onto Yamaguchi’s and Yamaguchi responded by sticking his cold hands under Tsuki’s loose-fitting t-shirt, running his fingers over his fairly taught abdomen. Tsukishima cringed at the icy touch and pulled away.
“You need to eat more, it’s like touching a skeleton,” Yamaguchi teased, pulling his hands away and resting them on Tsukishima’s back instead.
“Well, your hands are so cold it’s like kissing a cadaver,” Tsukishima retorted.
Yamaguchi laughed. “Sorry, Tsuki.”
“Whatever.” Tsukishima lowered himself again, planting his lips back onto his friend’s. Yamaguchi opened his mouth slightly, offering Tsukishima an opportunity, which Tsukishima took, pushing his tongue between his lips.
Yamaguchi’s hands moved into Tsukishima’s hair. Usually Tsukishima protested Yamaguchi messing with his hair, but since it was late and he was about to sleep on it anyway, he let him. Tsukishima’s lips left Yamaguchi’s, leaving him to whine at the absence. Yamaguchi’s hands dropped down to the mattress.
“Enjoying yourself?” Tsukishima taunted with a dark expression.
Yamaguchi scoffed. “Not at all,” he lied, turning his head to look away, his face slightly red.
Tsukishima tsked at him, then leaned back in to press kisses down the length of Yamaguchi’s neck.
“That tickles,” Yamaguhi said, squirming slightly.
“Quit moving so much,” Tsukishima complained, pressing his hips down in an attempt to still him. He ran his nose along Yamaguchi’s skin where his neck met his shoulder for a moment, before placing his hot, wet mouth onto Yamaguchi’s skin to gently suck at it. Yamaguchi apparently enjoyed it, as he arched himself toward Tsukishima’s touch. Tsukishima felt the urge to shift his hips against Yamaguchi and he did. It was just a small experiment, but the results were instantaneous. Yamaguchi gasped at the slight friction, but he didn’t protest.
Tsukishima didn’t want to press his luck too much, though, so he didn’t do it again right away, instead opting to kiss across Yamaguchi’s collar bone, which was protruding from the t-shirt he was wearing. It was one of Tsukishima’s, so it was a little big on him. Tsukishima figured that he was one of the only people whose clothes could make Yamaguchi look so small.
Tsukishima waited a moment before rocking his hips into Yamaguchi again. Again, he elicited a small gasp from the boy underneath him. Tsukishima grinned against Yamaguchi’s sternum, then moved again.
“Uh!” Yamaguchi said. “Tsuki, don’t do that!” He rolled onto his side, leaving Tsukishima’s crotch against his upper thigh.
Tsukishima cocked an eyebrow. “What’s the problem? You worried I’ll think you’re gay?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Shut up, Tsuki. You know that’s not what this is,” Yamaguchi said.
“Right,” Tsukishima replied, drawing the syllable out. Then what is this? he thought, but he wasn’t going to get caught up on details. “But, hey, when did you start telling me to shut up?”
That made Yamaguchi smile and he turned back toward his friend. “Sorry, Tsuki.”
“That’s more like it,” Tsukishima said, lowering his face back to press his lips onto Yamaguchi’s freckled cheek. He kissed lazily across his face to his chin, up to his lips, then back to the underside of his jaw.
“S-so, um, actually, Tsuki, I was thinking about something,” Yamaguchi started to say.
“Mm?” Tsukishima mumbled into the skin of Yamaguchi’s neck.
“I was thinking of asking someone out?” he said, but he almost said it like a question.
Tsukishima scoffed, his hot breath ghosting over Tadashi’s shoulder. “Why would you want to do that? We’re the only two people at Karasuno who aren’t utterly obnoxious. And you’re even on thin ice.” He placed his lips back on Yamaguchi’s skin, then kissed up to just below his ear.
“Y-yeah. I guess,” Yamaguchi said. “But Yachi’s alright.”
"Yachi? Really?” Tsukishima said, his voice right next to Yamaguchi’s ear.
“She’s pretty cute,” Yamaguchi said.
“Can we not talk about this right now?” Tsukishima said lowering himself in a sort of push-up posture until his chest was on Yamaguchi’s but his weight wasn’t crushing him. He buried his face into Yamaguchi’s shoulder.
“I guess you’re right,” Yamaguchi said. “But you’d be alright with it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tsukishima grumbled. It’s not like they were dating or anything. They were just friends after all. Tsukishima didn’t have any claim on him.
“If she agreed to go out with me, do you think you and I could still…” Yamaguchi trailed off.
“Probably not,” Tsukishima said as he rolled off of him, giving up on kissing him any more. Even though he had requested not to talk about it, Yamaguchi clearly only had that on his mind.
“Why?”
“Don’t you think Yachi would be jealous?” Tsukishima said folding his hands over his chest.
“But we’re just friends,” Yamaguchi said, crumbling the stupid logic that Tsukishima had convinced himself of up to this point. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Tsukishima’s bespectacled face.
Tsukishima put his hand over his face, pretending to adjust his glasses, not wanting to look at Yamaguchi’s innocent face. “You’re not supposed to kiss more than one person at a time.”
Yamaguchi cocked his head. “I guess that makes sense.” He fell onto his back and looked up to the ceiling where Tsukishima still had some of those glow in the dark stars from when they were kids. Yamaguchi smiled, having seen those stars on countless nights since they were younger. “Too bad, since I already know you’re good at it. But then again, you’re good at everything.”
“That’s true,” Tsukishima affirmed, saying anything he could not to sound pathetic and hurt. He rolled over to face the wall, feeling himself walking backwards; his friendship with Yamaguchi reverting in an instant to the way it used to be, before they kissed, before they cuddled, before they shared their water bottles, before they held hands, before Tsukishima started to fall in love with him.