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Yaku scans the dressing room one more time to make sure the entire team is out for the night. Normally, this is Kuroo’s job, but their captain is busy taking Kenma to get some new video game, while their vice-captain, Kai, is up to his eyeballs in trying not to fail contemporary lit.
After one last sweep of the premises, Yaku is just about to declare the space unoccupied and lock up when a shrill, tone-deficient voice floats out of the showers, belting out some god-awful bubblegum J-pop song that makes Yaku want to melt his ears off.
“LEV!” he bellows, stomping into the showers. “What the hell are you still doing here? Don’t make me lock your sorry ass in here.”
Lev is standing at the mirror, singing uninterrupted by Yaku’s outburst, fluffing his hair over and over again while fully dressed. As if he had not previously noticed his senpai’s presence, Lev turns to greet him. “Yaku-san, how do I look?”
Yaku blinks at the question, simultaneously wondering why this never happens to Kuroo and why Lev would be asking such a ridiculous thing. He settles for the latter. “Like a giant five-year-old. Why?”
Rearranging his perfectly smooth hair one more time, Lev pinches his own cheeks and grins at Yaku. “I’m going to make a certain someone fall in love with me.”
At this, Yaku reexamines Lev’s appearance. He is wearing a button-up shirt of superior quality to their school uniforms, but his jeans look abysmal in comparison. He won’t even get started on the dirty Converse shoes, the color of which doesn’t remotely match the rest of the outfit. “You’re kidding, right?” Yaku can’t keep the derision out of his voice. Not that he tries.
“Huh?” Lev stares at him.
Yaku groans and rubs his temples. He feels deep and abiding sympathy for the poor soul who Lev has decided to woo. Not sure if this is Lev’s twisted version of a joke, Yaku looks carefully at his kouhai and grimaces at the raw enthusiasm in his expression and has a sinking feeling that this is, indeed, not a prank. “Of course, you’re not.” For a brief moment, he wishes he could fling himself into a swimming pool filled with patience and aspirin.
He blames it solidly on the headache forming in the front of his skull when he grumbles, “Fine. Come with me before you embarrass yourself.” At Lev’s questioning look, Yaku points angrily to Lev’s gym bag, the contents of which are sprawled out all over the floor. “Get your stuff. We’re going to do this right.”
A luminescent grin spreads on Lev’s face. “You’re the best, Yaku-san!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Yaku mutters. “Now don’t make me regret it.”
* * *
Lev’s house is like every other house to Yaku, and no one would look at the outside of it and realize that a brain-dead kitten masquerading as an absurdly tall person lives there. The friendly woman who greets them both at the door, Lev’s mother, is also like most other mothers in that she smiles at her son so brightly. The only difference is that Lev’s mother is also over twenty centimeters taller than him.
Yaku can see where Lev gets his boundless cheer and his height.
“Sorry for the intrusion!” Yaku says with a bow at the front door.
Haiba-san laughs and ruffles Yaku’s hair. “Any friend of Lev’s is always welcome here.”
Squelching his desire to flinch away, Yaku bows to her again. “Thank you, Haiba-san.”
“Mom, Yaku-san is going to help me look good for my crush!” Lev points at Yaku enthusiastically, garnering a cringe from the latter. “Yaku-san always dresses nice outside of volleyball, so he’s going to teach me.”
Yaku blushes at the compliment. While he is aware of how to dress himself to best suit his stature, he wasn’t aware that Lev has watched him enough to determine his overall dress sense. Or that Lev even knows what good dress sense is, for that matter. But Yaku cannot, in good conscience, allow his kouhai to embarrass himself, even if it is his most annoying kouhai who plucks at every last nerve.
Haiba-san puts a hand over her mouth and giggles. “My baby’s in love. Make sure you tell me all about it. I’m going to the market, so you boys behave yourselves.” She hefts her enormous purse onto her shoulder. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, Yaku-kun. Just don’t let Lev use the microwave. He doesn’t remember to take off the aluminum foil, and —” She shakes her head. “Well, I’ll be back in a bit!”
After this whirlwind exchange, Yaku no longer wonders which parent has the most influence over Lev, both in genetics and personality. The thing that least surprises him about this glimpse into Lev’s life is probably the kid putting aluminum foil in the microwave.
Lev seems unaffected by his mother’s presence, or the lack thereof, so he pushes a pair of fluffy blue guest slippers towards Yaku and is bouncing on the balls of his feet when he points down the hallway. “Last room on the left is mine!”
With a sigh, Yaku parks his own school bag neatly on the step of the genkan and follows Lev through the house to his room. He doesn’t go in with any particular expectations of what it will look like this time, since Lev always seems capable of surprising him. Lev’s room actually turns out to be the least surprising thing about him.
There are dirty clothes everywhere, and the whole place smells like sweaty socks. “I think my nose is going to bleed,” Yaku mutters to himself. “It smells worse than Tora’s kneepads.”
Turning to Yaku with a puzzled look, Lev frowns and tilts his head. “What’s wrong, Yaku-san?”
Yaku glares at Lev. “Do you have a washing machine in the house?” Lev nods. “Then before do we anything, take a basket of clothes and throw them in the wash. You’re going to do your laundry like a real person, or I’m leaving.”
Lev seems to shrink half a meter at this. “I, um, don’t know how to use the machine.”
“Of course you don’t,” Yaku thinks for the too-many-eth time that day. He spots a basket buried beneath a stack of sports magazines and points at it. “Fill that up with dirty clothes and come with me.”
Once Lev scrambles to comply, Yaku prowls around the house until he finds the laundry room. He opens the washer and demonstrates how much a good load is and warns about over-filling. Lev nods vigorously. Finally, Yaku explains which dials do what and instructs on how to use the idiot-proof method of washing only with cold water and why.
Blinking, Lev says, “Laundry is hard. Volleyball is easy compared to this.”
“If you think volleyball is easier than laundry, we’re all screwed,” Yaku grumbles.
“What was that, Yaku-san?”
“Nothing.”
Finally, the load is underway, and they trek back to Lev’s room. Yaku instructs him to gather all his dirty laundry so he can resume the rest of his washing up, and already the room looks like less of a disaster. Now, Yaku turns his attention to the wardrobe in the corner. “So, are all your washed clothes in there?” When Lev bites his lip before poking at a pile of clothes on top of the desk, Yaku takes a steadying breath before ordering, “You’re going to fold these right now and put them away.”
Lev ducks his head, and Yaku already knows what is coming next. “You don’t know how to fold, either, do you?” He doesn’t wait for the answer. “Here, I’ll show you.”
Yaku looks around, dismayed that every available surface is populated with various detritus, he settles for dragging the duvet over the mess on the bed to create a blank, flat-ish surface. He grabs one of Lev’s T-shirts, which is heavily creased by its mistreatment, and lays it flat.
“Now,” he starts, “simple workout clothes don’t require a lot of special handling, so these you can roll up to save space.” To demonstrate, he puts the shirt face-down on the bed, evenly tucks the sleeves over, and folds the shirt into vertical thirds. From the bottom, he rolls the shirt until he has one clothing burrito in his hand for Lev to stow. “Keep those on the bottom of the wardrobe, under the hanging things, to save space.”
Blinking in wonder, Lev holds the rolled shirt and looks at it in awe. “That looks so easy! I can do that.”
Yaku grabs another tee and hands it to Lev. “It requires practice to keep from wrinkling your stuff, so you’re gonna do it until you get it right.”
Lev has the resolute look of the boy who loudly proclaims himself the ace, and Yaku privately hopes that he has better luck with folding than with volleyball. Lev’s mangled attempt to do exactly what Yaku did, however, dashes that hope swiftly.
Trying to remain patient, Yaku rolls Lev’s failed job back out. “How about I do one side and you do what I do on the other?” Lev smiles widely, and Yaku feels bad for being irritated for just a second. Step by step, Yaku walks him through it again until both sides are uniform. He takes Lev’s hands and places them on the bottom of the shirt and walks them through the motion of an even roll.
When the perfect final product is in his fist, Lev grabs it like a baton and thrusts it up in the air in victory. “I AM THE ACE OF FOLDING!” he declares to the very disinterested ceiling.
Yaku closes his eyes and counts back from ten. “You are the ace of getting your ass back down here and folding the rest of these.”
Diving to comply, Lev enthusiastically plows through the entire pile of T-shirts while Yaku sifts through the rest of the clean clothes on the desk and separates them by type. When Lev is done with the tees, Yaku holds out a pair of trousers. “Now these.” He demonstrates a good trouser fold, showing Lev the creases and why it’s important to take care of them.
“Yaku-san knows so much.” Lev looks at him like he has ascended to some higher plane.
It takes every drop of patience left in Yaku to not smack Lev on his head, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he can barely reach it. “No, it’s because I’m old enough to take care of myself. So are you. Your mom shouldn’t have to do your laundry or clean your room, Lev. You’re fifteen years old, not five.” He looks at Lev intently. “Seriously, hasn’t your mom taught you any of this stuff?”
Lev shakes his head. “She wants to, but my dad says I should learn to take care of myself. It’s harder than it looks if you can’t even fold a shirt.” At this, Lev looks so deflated that Yaku begins to feel the itch of remorse for lecturing him so much.
“Listen, Lev, your dad is right,” Yaku starts, ignoring the sad puppy look that Lev shoots him. “But you need to ask for help with stuff like this instead of letting it overrun everything. Do you play volleyball well when you’re thinking about everything else you’ve got going on?” Lev shakes his head. “Because there’s too much noise to concentrate. It’s the same with your environment. If you let it get too messy, you can’t do anything in here and it stops being your environment. Then your room just belongs to your stuff and not you. You get what I mean?”
Blinking, Lev nods absently. Yaku wonders where Lev’s brain is right now, but as soon as the blank expression is there, it’s gone. “Then I can do my homework in here instead of at the kitchen table. Dad doesn’t like that, either.”
“As well he shouldn’t,” Yaku states. “Now, you’re going to clean the rest of this room before I deem you fit to even look at another person. Especially this crush of yours.”
Lev’s face scrunches in confusion before he brightens and says, “Yes, senpai. Finish the clothes first, right?” Yaku nods. “Then bag up the trash and put it in the bin in the kitchen?”
Yaku pauses. “Only if it’s a little bit. Otherwise, you should take it out, and take the kitchen trash with you if it’s full or almost full. You should help your mom around the house here and there, too.”
While Lev darts around the room, folding all the laundry and collecting garbage, Yaku ventures a look in Lev’s closet. He frowns at the drab selection of trousers cut for old men and doesn’t wonder at all why they are the only things hanging there. The bottom of the wardrobe is layered in pair after pair of well-worn jeans in varying sizes, which Yaku figures are the pairs Lev has worn out or grown out of.
“Hey, Lev, do any of these jeans still fit you?” Yaku calls, his head still ensconced in the wardrobe.
“No,” Lev answered. “Those were from last year.”
“What’s with the old man pants?” Yaku wonders aloud, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he wants to take them back. His question is marked by a crash that sounds like half the room falling onto the floor, but when Yaku looks at Lev to make sure he’s unharmed, he sees his normally sunny kouhai kicking his metal bedframe. Grabbing Lev by the waist, Yaku cries, “Lev, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I don’t care!” Lev whines as his entire weight seems to sag into Yaku. “I hate this.”
Yaku shepherds Lev to the bed to sit, mind spinning with how much he does not understand what is happening at this moment. “Hate what?”
“It’s not easy being this tall when everyone around you is shorter,” Lev admits. “I can barely ever find pants that fit unless they’re jeans, and when I do, they cost more than what my mom spends in a week for groceries. Everyone looks at me like I’m a freak just because I’m twenty centimeters taller than the average Japanese guy.”
At these words, Yaku feels his throat close up with shame and grief. He cannot even count the number of times he has mocked Lev for being too tall, and not only has Lev taken all of this to heart, he’s allowed it to fester until he’s willing to break his foot on a bedframe in frustration.
He curses himself as he dashes tears from his eyes, but he doesn’t turn his attention away from Lev. “Lev, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this bothered you so much, but I should have. I hate it when people call me short, because it makes me feel like I can’t compete with people like you and Kuroo, who are so much taller. That I have to fight for every inch of difference between us. But it can’t be easy for you, either.”
Lev bites his lip. “It’s okay, Yaku-san. I give you a lot of trouble, and I shouldn’t. I just don’t think sometimes.”
Yaku reaches out and squeezes Lev’s hands. “It’s okay. We both know better now, so how about we start fresh today and not do that anymore?” Lev nods, and Yaku can’t help but smile. “Now, seriously, what’s with the old man pants?”
“They’re from the second-hand shop.” Lev sighs. “My dad thinks we shouldn’t waste money on expensive clothes while I’m growing so fast, and since we spend a lot of money on volleyball, my mom can’t really disagree.”
“And that’s why your normal jeans are so worn out and dirty,” Yaku muses, and Lev nods. “So, you have these trousers that you don’t wear because you hate them.”
Yaku returns to the closet and takes out the two best pairs. “How about I show you how to use these so they don’t look so bad?”
At Lev’s ecstatic expression, Yaku finds that he’s deeply glad that he had offered to help Lev with his clothes. He understands this excitable giant of a first-year a bit better, and he has something to work on for himself, as well, in being a little more understanding of Lev’s own insecurities.
Looking over at the desk, Yaku is impressed to find that nearly all of Lev’s clothes are folded in a respectable manner, and the button-up shirts are on hangers, waiting to go into the wardrobe. There aren’t many button-ups, but he suspects that this issue, akin to Lev’s problem with trousers, is due to either sleeve length or shoulder breadth.
Yaku’s gaze settles on the sage green shirt Lev is already wearing, and he’s mildly impressed that Lev knew that it is his best-fitting one. “Take that shirt you’re wearing off and bring it here.” With one swift motion, Lev is bare-chested and holding out the shirt like an offering. Yaku narrows his eyes and pointedly does not look at the downy sprinkling of hair on Lev’s pecs. “Right side out, genius.”
Finally, with the shirt in hand, Yaku lays out the trousers on the bed, takes one of the dark tees with a fun print, and tucks it into the button-up before layering them on top of the trousers. With a few tugs and pulls, he sweeps his hand at the outfit. “Layering is your new friend. Wear the T-shirt underneath because you have a lot of them and they fit you. Pick one that doesn’t clash with your outer shirt or your trousers.
“This way, you don’t have to wash the button-up as often if it’s not dirty, and you can hang it back up when you’re done.” Gesturing to the waistband of the trousers, Yaku points to the hem of the tee. “This will cover the gross pleats and make you appear a bit shorter because of the color difference between the top and the bottom.”
When he sees Lev’s puzzled look, Yaku asks, “Did I go too fast?”
Lev shakes his head. “Why not button the shirt?”
“Good point,” Yaku says, patting Lev’s hand to support his awakening comprehension. “If you’re going to button the outer shirt, only button one button above your belly button. It accentuates your shoulders without smothering them and making it hard to move. That’s why you don’t wear many other shirts, right?” Lev nods solemnly. “If you don’t want to spend money on tailoring, then just get the ones that fit the best but don’t button them all the way unless you have to, like for school.”
“And with the trousers, they make my hips look wider and stronger!” Lev offers, and Yaku is pretty sure he will need a trip to the dentist with the utter sweetness of Lev’s joy of finally understanding. “Oh, thank you, Yaku-san! I want to try them on.”
This time prepared, Yaku wheels around just in time to miss Lev’s hasty stripping. In a mere thirty seconds, he is tapped on the shoulder before being man-handled into turning back to drink in the sight of this reformed version of Haiba Lev.
The outfit does exactly what Yaku had said it would, and Lev’s achingly large grin does the rest. His kouhai looks smart and put-together, and all without having to buy anything new from an extremely expensive Big and Tall store. “You look great, Lev,” Yaku says honestly and without hesitation. “I’m proud of you.”
Lev crushes Yaku to his chest and chimes, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” at least a dozen times into his hair. At this angle, Yaku is very aware of their height difference, with Lev standing over him by almost thirty centimeters, but somehow, he feels like the taller of the two right now because Lev has relied on him and trusted him with one of his deepest insecurities.
“You’re welcome,” Yaku murmurs into Lev’s arm, feeling his face flush as he returns the embrace just a little.
Finally, when Yaku decides that he wants his personal space back, he breaks off the hug and helps Lev with the next load of laundry and how to master the Evil Dryer Demon. They return to Lev’s room and tackle the rest of the mess together. Neither of them realize that Haiba-san had returned from the store already until she knocks on the door as they are putting the finishing touches on the room.
“Oh, Yaku-kun, I didn’t know you were still here!” she exclaims. “Lev, dear, it’s rude to do chores with guests around!”
Lev is ready to apologize, but Yaku intercedes. “I’m sorry, Haiba-san. I made Lev clean his room and do his washing because he needed help. I’ll leave, if you like, so he can finish.”
Haiba-san looks at Yaku long and keenly before her normally sunny smile turns up into something deeper and more genuine. “You’re such a good boy, Yaku-kun. I’m so glad Lev has a friend like you. Please, don’t leave unless you have to. I was just about to let Lev know that dinner’s ready.”
Lev perks up at this. “Is Dad going to be home tonight?”
Shaking her head, Haiba-san gives Lev a weak smile, and Yaku feels something plummet in his gut when Lev’s face falls. “But I made your favorite,” she adds hastily. “Yaku-kun, do you like oinarisan?”
Yaku smiles. “Very much so, Haiba-san. Especially with lots of veggies.”
Clapping Yaku on the back with the force of a hammer blow, Lev laughs. “Is there any other way to eat it?”
Haiba-san nods in approval. “Good food for strong, growing boys. Shall I call your mother and ask if it’s all right for you to stay for dinner?”
“Not much point,” Yaku says with a sigh. “My dad’s a company man and works late this time of year, and my mom died when I was five. It’s usually just me.”
Looking at Lev in horror, Haiba-san squashes Yaku to her large chest. “I’m so sorry, you poor boy! How do you do it? I would go crazy without my Lev to keep me company.”
Yaku struggles to breathe as he replies, “I’ve got good friends and kouhai who keep me busy.”
Lev giggles — a magical sound. “That’s me, mom. I keep Yaku-san very busy.”
Haiba-san lets go of Yaku to deliver a bone-crushing hug to her son, this time, who seems able to return it without asphyxiation. Yaku watches with a little bit of envy, because he can barely remember what it’s like to have someone dote on him like this. He wonders if this empty feeling is why he can’t help but spoil his kouhai with attention.
Dinner at the Haiba residence is a boisterous affair, and Yaku can’t remember when he’s eaten so much. The sheer portion sizes are astronomical, but he sees why when Lev puts away three times what Yaku can manage.
After the meal, Yaku reluctantly mentions the time. “I should get back in case Dad comes home soon. I usually make him dinner when he works late because he gets tired.”
Shaking her head, Haiba-san squawks, “Absolutely not! You must take home some leftovers for your father. You work hard too, Yaku-kun, and you should be resting after a long day of school and volleyball.”
Yaku is about to refuse, but Haiba-san will have none of it. “I mean it. Lev, dear, please follow Yaku-kun home to make sure he takes it.”
“Ossu,” Lev says with a focus Yaku has previously only associated with volleyball. “I’ll wash up when I get home, Mom.”
Haiba-san blinks at her son’s statement before biting her bottom lip. “Okay, dear. Walk safe, boys.”
They head off towards Yaku’s house, which is only a five minute walk away. This is when Yaku realizes that they had forgotten one key element of their evening. “Hey, um, you never did get around to confessing to that girl you like.”
Lev stops mid-stride. “Is that what I said?”
Not sure where he went wrong, Yaku scratches his head as he balances the plate of leftovers in his other hand. “I guess. Isn’t that why you wanted to wear something nice in the first place?”
Chuckling, Lev rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I said at all. I said that I was going to make a certain someone fall in love with me, not that I was going to confess to someone.”
Yaku glares at Lev. “Were you playing me, Lev? Did you just fake wanting to ask a girl out so I would help you clean your room?”
“I . . . what?”
Despite knowing how much mental gymnastics would be required to reach such a conclusion, Yaku continues to interrogate his suddenly guilty-looking kouhai. “Then what exactly were you planning on doing?”
Lev huffs and paces in tight little circles, wringing his hands inside the cuffs of his shirt. Yaku sits the plate down on a gate post right next to the sidewalk and grabs Lev’s arms. “Why are you being so weird?”
“Because I know the person I like doesn’t like me back, and that’s why I wanted to make them like me. I think I screwed up.” Lev slumps against the gate post and sits heavily on the pavement. “I’ll never be able to confess. I’m such a screw-up, Yaku-san.”
Before Yaku understands what Lev is saying, the younger boy’s shoulders are slumped over and shaking. His excellent dinner sits uncomfortably in his belly, and his own eyes are stinging as he kneels down in front of Lev. “Please, don’t cry. I want to help, but I don’t know what you need.”
With a snotty sniff, Lev mumbles, “Promise you won’t get mad?”
Though under normal circumstances, Yaku would hesitate before making any such promise, but right now, he would grab the moon out of the sky and spike it across the country if it would make Lev stop crying. “I promise.”
Lev looks up at him with reddened eyes. “I like you, Yaku-san. You’re kinder to me than I deserve, and you’re so strong.”
Yaku can certainly keep his promise about not getting angry, because he’s too utterly thunderstruck by this awkward, utterly un-sweet confession that is also the first one he’s ever received. Finally, he manages to say, “I didn’t know you felt like that. For now, just give some time to think about it and figure some stuff out.
“But I’m honored, Lev. Really, I am.”
Incognizant of the snot running out of his nose or his wet cheeks, Lev embraces Yaku for the second time. However, this time, it is a light, almost tender gesture, and Yaku’s already churning belly shoots up into his throat.
Even having spent an entire year whipping this wayward first year into shape, Yaku finds that he is only beginning to get to know Lev. The part that intrigues and scares him all at once is that he wants to know Lev more, this sweet, oblivious beanpole who speaks before thinking and tries so hard at everything.
As he sits in the street, hugging someone he previously would have punched for touching him, Yaku wonders if he would have hesitated if a girl had confessed to him instead of Lev, and he feels a bit of shame when he realizes that he would probably have fallen to her feet and worshipped her, even if he barely knew her.
Yaku isn’t a girl magnet like Kuroo, and he isn’t good-looking like Kai. Yet this statuesque boy, who is a prolific athlete and probably more attractive than anyone Yaku knows, is actually shedding tears over the fear of being rejected by plain, mousy, short, uninspiring Yaku Morisuke.
And that is entirely unacceptable.
“To hell with it,” Yaku growls before taking Lev’s cheeks in his palms and pressing a tight, burning kiss to the other boy’s mouth. Another first for him today. Almost like they know the steps to this dance already, their lips slide together, and Yaku drowns himself in the kiss until he is light-headed and needs to stop for breath.
“Wow,” he says dumbly.
“I know, right!” Lev cries, forgotten tears drying off his cheeks as he shoots to his feet and brings Yaku along for the ride. “That was amazing, Yaku-san! I want to kiss you a lot.”
The sheer delight on Lev’s face makes Yaku laugh. “God, you’re such a nerd.” He looks to the side, and when he glances back at Lev, there is a hopeful expression waiting for him. “I guess I kinda liked it, too. We could, um, do that again sometime. See what happens.”
Lev jumps up and punches the air. “YES!”
Yaku rolls his eyes but can’t be angry with Lev’s happiness because it might just be contagious. With a lingering smile, Yaku grabs the plate of leftovers, glad Lev didn’t topple it over in celebration, and laces the fingers of his other hand with Lev’s. Lev looks at him in surprise before his face eases into that omnipresent smile.
Yeah, Yaku thinks. I could get used to this.