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Tsukishima knew you. Of course he knew you. You were the innocent girl who sat behind him in class, always fumbling with your glasses and scribbling with your pencil oh-so loudly.
By the time spring came around, he dubbed you Mouth-Breathing Mary. Evidently you had allergies, and rather than sniffling, you resorted to the second loudest option to obtain enough oxygen in your lungs to function properly. Everything you did, even though you sat a few roomy inches behind him, peeved him off so much.
Oh how he wished he could ignore it, your every little noise and sound effect. But something about you just stuck with him, interested him in some way. Like there was a part of you that hadn’t shown its face to him, or anybody, yet.
And, of course, he had “heard” of you too. Apparently some girl attending Karasuno High was a powerhouse on the court. With pictures in the news and games on TV, she was practically a worldwide legend for Women’s 18 and under volleyball. Tsukishima first learned about her while preparing for practice, watching the two resident perverts of the VBC leering over a new magazine with heart eyes.
“She goes to our school, doesn’t she? What a hottie!” Pint-Size had exclaimed.
“She looks so innocent too, just like our beloved Kiyoko!” Mr. No-Shirt responded.
So yeah. He did know both sides of you, but it only took one stroll past the open doors of the first gym during lunch for him to discover this. Yamaguchi had finally caught up with his strides when they both heard it.
WHAM!
Flinching at the sudden boom, they peered through the doorway like meerkats to spot the perpetrator.
You.
You, standing under the bright lights of the gym, forehead dripping sweat and face scrunched up in distaste at whatever had caused the bang that shook the room. Your eyes squinted behind the glass frames that blessed you with vision, allowing you to glare at whatever had displeased you.
It was a single water bottle standing in the corner of the court, closest to the open doors. Others just like it were laying askew along the wall, gathered up with spare volleyballs as well. There were about six bottles in total, and you, huffing and cursing under your breath, lined them all up along the back of the court. After this, you returned to your spot on the other end. Then-
WHAM!
The first bottle farthest from your spectators slammed against the back wall before you retrieved another volleyball from the basket at your side. Toss, step, step, jump…
WHAM!
WHAM!
WHAM!
Finally, you knocked over all the bottles in a patterned succession. You had done so with a hawk-like precision, almost looking like you could do it in your sleep. The only things that ruined the picture of you being this blank-faced pro were the small fist pump you allowed yourself and the wide grin that grew on your face. Then you started anew, lining them up along the edge of the court and refilling your volleyball supply once more.
“Wow,” Yamaguchi whispered breathlessly, shocking Tsukishima out of his stupor. “She’s good!”
First, his lips twitched. Then his jaw clenched. And finally, with a small readjustment of his glasses performed by a single index finger, Tsukishima spoke.
“Let’s go back. Lunch is almost over.”
~~~
The aloof blond almost couldn’t believe it. Mouth-Breathing Mary was a devastating beast on the volleyball court. How? How does someone who looks like they couldn’t even walk past an animal shelter without bursting into tears do that?
“Hey,” your voice, along with an incessant jab to his back via the butt end of your pencil grabs his attention instantly. “I saw you watchin’ me at lunch today, creeper.”
Observer of those who were potentially more skilled at volleyball than he was? Yes. Creeper ? No.
“I was simply inspecting what was making such a racket in the gym. Don’t flatter yourself.”
The comment makes you scoff. “Psh, all right. I’ll buy that B.S. for now, stalker.”
His teeth were going to be grinded to dust before the day was over. However, Tsukishima chooses to stay silent, glueing his eyes to his textbook in order to ignore the feeling of your gaze on his back.
“By the way,” you nudge his shoulder blade once more, making him glance toward the ceiling.
“Yes?”
“I have a game tomorrow night, just in case you wanna ‘inspect more racket’ in the gym.”
No. Of course he wouldn’t go, are you kidding?
~~~
“Tsukki, why are we here again?”
“Shush.” Crowds whooped and hollered after the sound of a large wham , no different from that of a poor volleyball smacking against freshly polished wood. Shoes squeaked down on the court, along with the occasional “cover me” and “it’s up!”
The audience for tonight’s game was a lot more than Tsukishima expected as he shouldered his way through the bumbling bodies. He was finally able to catch a breath of fresh air when he surfaced at a metal railing, Yamaguchi huffing just as heavily not far behind.
Down on the court, from what Tsukishima could tell, the game wasn’t exactly fair.
It wasn’t really Karasuno Girls’ Volleyball Club versus Aoba Johsai.
No. It was actually you versus six untainted souls, so pure and ready to be petrified. You were in the middle of serving a serious reality check to the girls on the other side of the net when their coach called a time.
Apparently, one of the wing spikers had sustained a nice bruise to the forearms while trying to field your classic server’s ace. It was her fault really, but her replacement was shaking just as much in her court shoes.
Halfway through the game, Tsukishima finally understood why so many people were here. Watching you was almost like a drug. Not that he was addicted or anything.
It was like throwing a lion in the gazelle exhibit at the zoo. Ducks on a pond. Fish in a barrel. Whatever other analogies there were out in the world that could explain how much you were opening a can of whoop ass right now.
At a certain point, the Aoba Johsai girls weren’t even trying. Tsukishima almost swore he heard a whimper from one of them after your spike had flown past her face.
Yep. He finally got it. You were like a highlight reel of the best volleyball players to exist. There was even a journalist from the local news taking pictures and writing notes in the corner of the stands right now!
And yet, the next day at school, you were that same little lamb that sat behind him in class. The glasses hiding your eyes also disguised the gaze’s capacity for ferocity . Last night, and every game he assumed before that, you were a force to be reckoned with.
And, yeah, he totally didn’t like you or anything.
~~~
Karasuno didn’t always host home games for their boys’ volleyball club, but when they did, there was always one person in the audience Tsukishima looked for.
You.
At one point, you had stopped teasing him for attending your games, and instead you began to return the favor. Now, sure, there were less people in the audience when the boys played because, really, who did they have that was a world champion like you?
Anyways, Tsukishima and you had made a silent agreement after however many games you had cheered for each other. No words needed to really be spoken about it, and Tsukishima almost preferred it that way. In all honesty, the tall middle blocker felt like he played better under your watchful eyes. You were really the only person who he could depend on that believed in him , and him alone.
You weren’t intrusive or loud like his brother, but whenever he instinctively glanced up at you after a particularly well-executed block, you always blushed and glanced away in this cute little way of yours. Tsukishima just knew it. He liked you .
Not that he would ever admit it to your face, though.
And he liked to think that you found comfort in his presence during your games as well. Though he didn’t nearly catch your eye as much up in the stands (you were always too in the zone), you would always give him a little thumbs up and a grin after a game.
It was the most frustrating thing, as Tsukishima always had to glance away to fend off his own flush. He hated how easily you could break down his stoic walls in your own little shy ways. The only thing he hated more than that was the giggle he would hear after avoiding your gaze.
Now, tonight was yet another game, and another opportunity to see you.
Of course, he saw you during school hours, but he usually refrained from talking to you during that time. You were always too sly or too quiet, depending on the day, but also, deep down Tsukishima liked the distance that came between the two of you during games. It prevented that stupid little flutter of his heart whenever you would accidentally brush his hand in the hallway or draw weird patterns on the back of his uniform during class.
Yeah, he liked the distance. Most of the time.
~~~
It was five o’clock. The match was about to begin, and yet a certain middle blocker couldn’t stop his attention from straying to the stands.
Where…
“Tsukishima, get your ass out there!”
The blond cursed under his breath, adjusting his glasses on his face before jogging out onto the bright court. Kageyama threw his teammate a few strange glances, but kept his jaw wired shut. Good.
“Damn, Tsukki, what’s wrong with you today? Is your girlfriend not here to cheer you on?” a certain wing spiker teased, flashing his signature toothy smirk.
The middle blocker doesn’t respond, only flaring his nostrils at the fact that Tanaka was right. Well, half right.
“Tanaka’s right, you need to get your head in the game,” the blue-haired setter sneers.
This lights a fire under the middle blocker’s ass. “ Nobody tells me how to play,” Tsukishima hisses, hands covering the back of his head as he waits for Hinata to serve. “Especially not a power-tripping king like you.”
“Calm it down, you two. We’ve got a game to play.” As always, Captain Daichi has to save the day, but that doesn’t distract Tsukishima from Buzzcut’s words.
Where were you?
~~~
Of course, Karasuno’s VBC won the game last night, but at the bottom of his heart, Tsukishima feels like it was unearned. Not seeing you in the crowd last night made his mouth taste bitter and his head pained. It’s not like he wanted to like you so much, but part of him still feels betrayed you had broken tradition.
Now, he could be realistic in this instant. Maybe you just had too much homework. Maybe your family had an emergency. Maybe you got into a car crash on your way to the game and died.
Really, the possibilities were endless.
Anyways, as Tsukishima sat in class, headphones plugged in as he waited for the first bell to ring, his final theory was proved false.
Tap tap . A familiar touch poked his shoulder from behind. That wasn’t the only reason for why he knew it was you; you were also the only person in the school who had the guts to actually touch the blank-faced genius of the volleyball club.
Playing off his indignation as reluctance, Tsukishima snaps his music off his ears and lays it on his desk, signalling for you to speak with a quick “Did you need something?”
Even he could tell his tone was icier than normal, and he almost cringed at the sound of you flinching back like he had burned you. “U-umm, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for missing your game last night.”
“You don’t have to come to my games.” The words tasted like poison in his own mouth even after he spat them, and Tsukishima knew he was only digging his own grave deeper. Evidently, though, you weren’t one to scare easily.
“You know,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I would have felt terrible too if you missed one of my games.”
“Really?” is what the boy wanted to ask, but instead he stayed silent in effort to keep himself composed.
After waiting for him to respond and deducing that he wouldn’t, you continue. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there to support you.” He hears you gulp. “B-but, uh, how did you guys do?” Your tone lifts at the end, trying to stay positive considering the wall Tsukishima was currently putting up.
“We did fine,” he says after a while. “We won. And you don’t need to be sorry.”
“But I am,” he hears you shuffling nervously in your seat, “and I want you to know that I was only gone because I was making something. Something kinda special actually.”
From the way you said it, whatever you had made was actually quite personal. Tsukishima’s heart fills with guilt at forcing such a confession out of you, but he still feels burned himself.
So he replies with a nod and a hum, and that’s the most you guys communicate for the rest of the day.
~~~
Same day, new game. As Tsukishima slips on his jersey in the locker room, his mind wanders to thoughts of you. More specifically to if you’ll be at his game tonight.
He highly doubted it, especially after the way he treated you this morning. Though cold and remote were his signature styles, he hated that it might have closed you off for good this time.
“...Tsukki? You okay?” Yamaguchi only stops waving his hand in front of his friend’s face when the blond bats it away with a scowl.
“What?”
“You’ve been staring at the wall for like ten minutes,” the shorter boy shrugs, “everyone else has gone to the gym now. I was just waiting for you to snap out of it so we could go.”
Yikes. If Tsukishima’s head was already out of it now, who knows what would happen with him during the game. As much as he hates the thought, his playing abilities seemed to be tethered to you. The closer you were, the better they became.
God, how had he fallen so far?
“I’m ready. Let’s go.” Tsukishima leads the way, Yamaguchi trailing not even a stride behind him down the steps and into the school’s main gym.
It’s bright and buzzing with volleyball life inside.Yellow- and blue-striped balls fill rolling baskets to the brim, meanwhile others fly through the air at compromising speeds. The other team has arrived and is practicing harmoniously, not a single player out of step.
This team was good, and Karasuno would have to be better.
“Glasses, get your ass over here!” Coach Ukai shouts with no shame, waving Tsukishima over to the rest of the spikers who were already running and jumping above the net.
The middle blocker joins the group with ease, practicing in their normal rhythm. Of course that would be easy; it was the spontaneity of a game that would be able to catch him off his guard later.
No. Tsukishima could play without you. It was hard to break out of a habit, but he wasn’t as weak-minded as some other people he knew (his eyes locked on Hinata as he thought this).
And so the game commenced. Refs arrived, crowds filed in, and in a single, bare area up in the stands sat you.
Tsukishima blanched at the sight. Thankfully, he was starting the game in the player box, but that didn’t mean your presence hadn’t rattled him.
Well, maybe it wasn’t your presence, per se, it was more so the homemade sign you waved through the air after winking cheekily at him.
“#11, I’ll give you a kiss if you win!” it said.
The sign was twice your size across, and every word sparkled black with an orange outline. There was a heart in the corner, and a small volleyball sat atop the i in “kiss.”
“Ooh, look whose girlfriend showed up today?!” Tanaka catcalls, whistling as Tsukishima goes ghost white.
Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush.
It was a nice try, but unsuccessful overall. In the end, the blond can only shake his head as a hint of a smile creeps onto his face. It’s the best you’ve ever gotten, though, so you better take it and run.
For the rest of the game, Tsukishima is forced to play with pink cheeks, ignoring every eyebrow waggle from Nishinoya and every suggestive elbow to the side from Tanaka. And of course you tease him too.
Each time he glances up at you like he normally does, you throw him a beaming smile and shake the sign you still hold, leaning on the railing it hangs over. Though he would hate to admit it, it still pumps him up like normal. Every block is just a tad better, and every serve just a tad stronger.
And by the end of that game, you best believe he was waiting for that kiss.
The ref blows the whistle, the last set won by Karasuno with seven points hanging over the other team’s head. The tall middle blocker’s eyes dart to yours and that’s all the signal you need to clamber your way down onto the court, sign still intact.
You hand it to him as soon as you're close enough and for some unexplainable reason, Tsukishima accepts the responsibility of holding the sign willingly.
Your eyes glow with excitement but the rest of your body language tells that you’re shy, including the smallest little nibble on your lower lip that you would soon discover drives him up the walls.
“Well?” Tsukishima finally asks, glancing you up and down before locking his gaze on your face.
“Hmm?” you hum, playing innocent because of course you would do that during a time like this. Tsukishima had figured out early on that you were just as terrible with emotions as he was. Maybe you could work on it together, but that would have to be saved for later. Right now, you owed him.
Tsukishima doesn’t bother to respond to your teasing. Instead, he sighs and tosses aside the sign, ignoring as it flutters to the ground for all to see before tugging you closer by your hand. Your eyes widen with nervousness, but the blond doesn’t bother to let it grow into an all-out halt on the situation.
No. He wouldn’t give up this chance. No matter how many others were watching.
Though you were only seven inches shorter than him, he still tips your head up before leaning down and capturing your lips against his.
It’s short and sweet, because Tsukishima is never one to reveal all his cards on the first go. He presses his lips to your softer ones and makes note of just how much pressure might drive you crazy at a later date, then he pulls away, immediately wanting to absorb your blissed expression.
It doesn’t disappoint, as in the short few seconds your first kiss had lasted, your pupils had blown wide and your cheeks had transitioned from a gentle pink to a burning red. Your hands had barely had enough time to reach up and tangle in his hair, so you follow through with the act then, intertwining your fingers right at his nape.
“Well-deserved,” you breathe out with a grin, tugging his sweaty forehead down before pressing your own against it. Tsukishima just barely copies your expression, allowing a slight curl at each end of his mouth as he cranes his neck to meet your face. He raises a questions brow when your smile twists into a smirk.
“I’d still kick your ass in volleyball though.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes and playfully nudges your glasses with his own before scoffing.
“Debatable.”