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“Crap,” Tsukishima mutters. “I forgot my water bottle in class.”
Silence. The Karasuno volleyball club falls to an uncharacteristic hush. Slowly, carefully, all eyes turn to him.
“Tsukki,” a voice sounds. “You… forgot your water bottle?”
Tsukishima turns around, a tinge of irritation lacing his tone. “Yes, Yamaguchi. That’s what I just said.”
Ennoshita shoots him a look, one reminiscent of a conversation they’d had earlier on in the year. Tsukishima can almost hear the familiar line in his head—about softening his words and being more sensitive to his teammates off court to aid team spirit. As much as he hates this kind of criticism, Ennoshita is the captain. What the captain says goes… and is usually right, in the case of Ennoshita.
Recent events in his life would affirm that, anyway.
Tsukishima sighs. “Sorry. Yes. I forgot.”
In the distance, he sees two first-years exchange a look. Ennoshita puts down his water bottle and steps forward. “You’ve been a little off today. Behaviour-wise and on court.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Hinata gasps, voice a loud whisper. “He said sorry twice!” Tanaka shakes his head at him and draws a line across his throat as if to say shut up.
Tsukishima closes his eyes. “I’ll just… I’ll just go up and get it.”
Ennoshita nods. “And take a walk while you’re at it. Maybe it’ll help you clear your head.”
Tsukishima nods and turns to go soundlessly. Behind him, he thinks he hears faint titters of “I heard it’s girl problems!” followed by a series of loud gasps accompanying “Tsukishima has a girlfriend?” and then a final, deadpan, “No, you’re crazy.”
His fingers curl into fists as he strides quickly past the double doors. Because yes, as unbelievable as it is, it is girl problems, and no, Tsukishima does not have a girlfriend.
But he sort of wishes he did.
Tsukishima Kei isn’t stupid. He knows he isn’t the boyfriend kind. In middle school, he once accidentally picked up a shoujo manga and nearly dropped it like hot iron when he saw the way romance was depicted in it. I’m never going to fall in love, is what he thought, rubbing his hands over his eyes and trying to will away the mental image of a boy slamming a poor girl against the wall from his mind.
Now in high school, Tsukishima has a clearer picture of what exactly the teenage dream is for love. Aggressive boys with a sweet side, unsuspecting but pretty girls who are willing to get kabedon-ed against a wall. Of course, there are variations, as he’s heard the guys and girls in his class discuss… to which he always rolls his eyes. Apparently, you’ll sometimes want a bad boy who rides a motorcycle and has hidden tattoos over his back. Other times, you’ll want the sweet and charming class president who, unbeknownst to anyone, has a dark secret. That’s what he’s heard, at least; he doesn’t really know the full extent of it.
But he does know, he thinks, as he trudges up the stairs to his classroom, that he isn’t that sort at all. He’s tall, sure, but he can’t count the number of times he’s heard girls muttering about how Tsukishima’s kinda scary, don’t you think? He’s smart, fine, but then they’re always chattering about how he’s too sharp with his words to be considered boyfriend material. Not that it matters. These kinds of rumours are what headphones are for, and even if he does hear them, he doesn’t really care about them anyway.
That is, until he met you.
Because while Tsukishima knows that he is isn’t a regular shoujo protagonist, he thinks that you might as well be one. You’re the kind of attractive that only fictional characters should be, with a good sense of humour layered over a gentle kindness beneath. Honestly just so damn smart. Pretty. Like, really pretty. The kind that makes his stomach flip whenever he inexplicably finds his gaze lingering on your side profile during free study periods. Tsukishima isn’t stupid; he knows what a catch you are. He knows that you’re popular.
He just didn’t think that he, after all these years of despising romance so much, would have fallen for you too.
All he thought when you smiled and introduced yourself as his deskmate was that you were kind of pretty. But it’s not a big deal—lots of girls are pretty, after all, and Tsukishima hasn’t really been the kind to care that much about any of them.
But as the days went by in class, from spring to summer to fall, Tsukishima realised that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as immune as he thought he was. Not when he’s going to school every day with the thought of you waving to him from your seat with a little extra pep in his steps he definitely won’t acknowledge. Not when he feels these stupid butterflies in his stomach when you easily banter with him in that witty, teasing ways of yours, or help him with an assignment he has trouble with—the only person who can. And certainly not when he realises how sweet and gentle you can be, quietly sliding a piece of strawberry shortcake onto his desk when you think he doesn’t notice, on days when he’s upset and nobody but you can tell.
You’re nothing like those fickle, flat characters he found in romance mangas (okay, fine, maybe he did read a bit more than he previously let on). You’re pretty and confident and sweet all at once, full of unexpected depth that he can’t help but feel pulled in by, like a moth to a flame.
And before he knew it, he realised that he liked you.
But Tsukishima Kei isn’t stupid. He knows he isn’t the kind to be crushed on by girls, and he isn’t the kind to say sweet things the male actors in romance shows say like can I make you mine? He can’t do big, unexpected gestures, and he’d rather die than try to slam you into a wall. Why would you want a guy like him, when you could have anyone?
He swallows, still thinking about this as he rounds the corner to class where his water bottle is probably still sitting on the ground. (It’s not his fault that you nudged him gently as he was leaving the classroom with a soft smile, wishing him good luck for practice, and all thoughts kind of just walked out of his head.)
He exhales, wondering what he’s going to do about this. He can’t let his performance at volleyball suffer any longer, not when they have a practice game coming soon…
“Tsukishima? Really?”
His head snaps upward. But whoever called his name—they weren’t talking to him, but rather, about him. Typically, he wouldn’t care too much, but he’s a few paces forward when he realises that you’re there, too. Quickly, he tucks himself into the corner of the stairwell, just a couple metres away from the classroom.
His heart hammers in his chest, thoughts racing in his head. It was you, definitely you, still sitting in class. One of your friends was the one who had called his name, but you were most certainly there, sitting in your seat, with your friends having pulled a chair to sit by your desk.
(His own seat was still there next to yours, untouched.)
“Hey!” He hears you chide, in the familiar lilting cadence of your voice. “Don’t say it like that. Tsukishima is my friend.”
A friend. Somehow, that makes him feel simultaneously gratified and disappointed. But what were you talking about? Tsukishima inhales sharply and closes his eyes, but he can’t find it within himself to move even an inch.
Huh. Guess he’s more interested in you than he thought.
“But he’s so…” The other girl trails off. “Mean. Unfriendly. He’s so cold.”
Ouch.
“He’s not any of those things!” You insist. “He just expresses himself differently, Azumi. He can actually be kind of sweet, you know.”
Never mind. Tsukishima turns his head away, face quickly growing warm.
“Sweet?” She scoffs. “Tsukishima? Sweet? Are we talking about the same boy?”
“Ah, ‘zumi, don’t be so quick to judge.”
“I just want to make sure my best friend’s being well taken care of.” Azumi sniffs.
You laugh. “She is, she is. She can take care of herself, remember?”
“I know,” she sighs. “But he seems so stiff and rude. Of course I’d be concerned for you, right? I mean, what does he even do that makes you defend him like that?”
You pause, letting out a small hum. “How do I say this…? It’s like, for Tsukishima, you have to learn to recognise the signs. You know the five love languages, right?”
“What, you loooove him?”
“Shut up!” You say, the familiar flustered tone coming back into your voice. “You know the love languages can be platonic too, right?”
“Yeah, but do you want it to be pl—”
Something flies through the air and makes a soft collision. Azumi mutters an “ow”. Tsukishima leans over and sees her plucking an eraser from her arm, and can’t help but smile—you’re pink in your cheeks and burying your face into your arm.
Cute, he thinks, eyes lingering a little too long on you.
“Like I was saying!” You huff. “It’s, like, sometimes he does nice things for you, or goes out of his way to make time for you, and when you see it, then you’ll start to realise that he actually has quite a good heart.”
“Like what, though? What does he do?”
“Like, um.” You bite your lip hesitantly. “Do you remember how I was really nervous for that History presentation? Yeah, he noticed and—and offered to help look through it for me. He stayed back for an hour just to practise with me and help me refine the script.”
Azumi pauses. “I mean, I guess so. There are nice guys out there who will do this for you too, though.”
“Yeah, exactly,” you tell her. “Nice guys. Like Tsukishima is. Plus, there are times when I’ll end my self-study late and he’ll always offer to walk me home. And as grudging as it is, I know he goes out of the way to send me closer to my house. Sometimes, when he notices I’m down, he’ll even have bought a drink for me!”
“I would walk you home if I had the patriarchy on my side!”
“And I you, my dear,” you say in that familiar teasing tone of yours, all charming and sweet. Tsukishima bites back a grin. “But, c’mon, you have a boyfriend too. You know how it’s different. When we’re playing volleyball in gym class, and he comes over all grumpy to fix my posture, I just… I don’t know, he’s so unexpectedly gentle when he touches my shoulder and fixes my stance and, you know! The butterflies. I can’t help but wonder if it’s… it’s on purpose.”
So you noticed, Tsukishima thinks, feeling his fingers grow warm with the ghost of your skin under it.
“Yes, yes,” she says. “He touched your hand, we all saw it.”
“Oh, and!” You straighten up, seemingly ignorant to the amused look on Azumi’s face. “There are times when I’ll mention something to him just in passing. Like remember my violin exam? I was just revising my score in school and he asked me what it was for, and then the morning of, he texted me just to wish me good luck and tell me—”
“That you’re clever and have worked hard and so you’d be just fine,” Azumi finishes for you. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard this one already.”
“Sorry,” you quickly say, still smiling shyly. “I know I’m rambling. It’s just that, I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but that really made me feel touched, somehow.”
Azumi lets out a little breath. “Alright, alright. I brought it on myself, anyway, asking you about him.”
“He’s really not a bad guy,” you tell her. “You just have to pay a bit more attention, I guess.”
“Hmm… I guess he’s okay. I guess I wouldn’t mind approving him for you.”
“Approving him!” You echo, clearly embarrassed as you wave your hands in front of you. “You say that like we’ll date. It’s not like he, well, you know…”
The girl sighs. “You just told me about all the sweet things he does for you and you still want to say this? I mean, I feel like the matter is settled if you like him. And you do, don’t you?”
Tsukishima can feel a column of air rising sharply into his throat. He waits, in a complete and perfect silence, straining his ears for your response.
Finally, you let out a sigh.
“I do,” you admit. “I really like him.”
Tsukishima presses his back against the wall, eyes wide and chest feeling a little strange and flustered. Slowly, silently, he steps away from the concrete and takes quiet steps down the stairs. Now that he thinks about it, he probably has a spare water bottle back in the club room.
“Tsukishima, you’re back!” Tanaka pauses, then does a double take. “Eh? You look happy. Why do you look happy?”
Curious eyes flit to him. Shit, he is smiling. Tsukishima quickly wipes the expression off of his face. “No. I’m ready to practise again. Let’s practise.”
His expression must block out any further questions, because the first-years turn away and Kageyama and Hinata are too distracted by the prospect of trying out something new they’ve been discussing to pursue the question. Only Yamaguchi comes up to him and claps his shoulder. “Did something good happen, Tsukki?”
But he can only put up a front for so long, so in the face of his closest friend, he lets that smile from earlier float back up to his lips, if only for a few moments.
He shakes his head, covering his stubborn grin with a hand. “Something like that.”