Chapter Text
“I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, have confessed to Tsukishima Kei a total of twelve times in my life.” Somehow, I have managed to find the will to keep living even after that pathetic statistic. I personally find this to be much more impressive then my confession count.
“I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, have not confessed to a single other person in my life.” Worse than the first, but not as bad as the next.
“I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, have not loved a single other person in my life.” This makes me grip my pen a little bit harder, so it matches the grip around my chest. Tight, and a little bit suffocating, but in the way that makes you feel cornered, backed against a wall, and looking for a way to escape. I don’t think that’s the point of this particular exercise, but I keep writing.
“I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, am afraid always.” “I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, have tried to change this with every piece of my being.” “I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, have been equally unsuccessful.” “I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, want skin-on-skin contact with Tsukishima Kei so badly I can feel it under my skin.” I scratch all of these out with a tiny shake of my head.
“I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, resent myself.”
“I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, like Tsukishima Kei.”
I decide to leave it there. There’s more I want to say as my fingers twitch on the pen, but this is requiring me to analyze myself then I can stomach, so I shove my paper in my pocket and lean back in my chair, trying to calm my nerves. It’s no good. My guts have started to twist inside on themselves beyond repair, so I stand up abruptly, my chair falling back.
“Bathroom,” I blurt out, surprising the poor substitute teacher out of her skin, and then clap a hand over my mouth, and bolt out of the room, skidding down the hall. Ugh. How humiliating. It was just a dumb writing exercise that a sub gave us to pass time in a composition class. Something about starting sentences with ‘I, (insert self),’ and then listing personal facts. I probably shouldn’t have taken it so seriously, I think miserably as I retch in front of a school toilet, clutching the filthy rim with calloused fingers. When my body finally stills, I rest my head against my elbow, too exhausted to even keep it upright anymore. I gotta get back to class and write a more acceptable version of the assignment to turn in. And I still have practice after this hour…
Sighing again, I pull the paper out of my pocket and open it up, smoothing the wrinkles and narrowing my eyes at it. The ink smudged slightly when I crumpled it in in a hurry. The last few characters I wrote are too blurry to read. “I, Yamaguchi Tadashi, like Tsuki…” I roll my eyes and tilt my head back, stifling a dry and sarcastic laugh as my eyes bore into the mildewy bathroom ceiling.
None of what I wrote was a lie, and I think that’s what makes the paper burn a hole into my hand. The truth is, yes, I have confessed to Tsukki twelve times in our lifetime. The first time, I was still in primary school. The last time, just a few weeks ago.
“I- I- I like you, Tsukki. Like for real, I do!” I had caught him walking to school, like I always did. I caught my fingers in his jacket, like I always did. He asked me in that bored tone why I always walked with him to school, like he always did. But instead of answering something about using him as bully repellant, I answered with that. All I got in return was an unreadable look down through glasses.
All my confessions through the years were met similarly. “I like you.” “Hm.” I like you!” “Shut up, Yamaguchi.” I like you.” “Then stop gimme some space to work.” “I like you, Tsukki.” “You’ve mentioned.” I must tell you, there’s nothing quite as discouraging as being met with a non-response of that caliber, and yet… it’s not a rejection, so I just can’t seem to stop saying it, “I like you, I like you.” In the beginning, I think some hopeless, naive, dreaming part of me wished that someday he would meet my confessions with affirmation, and we’d live happier ever after. At this point, I just want him to acknowledge them, in any capacity.
There’s a bad taste in my mouth, and I don’t think it’s just from what I’ve thrown up. My fingers open and close into fists, and I suddenly find the exhaustion gone from my body. I stand up, wrinkling the paper in my fist, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. ( Tsukki! Sorry, Tsukki. I like you, Tsukki .)
When I push the stall door open so hard that it smashes against the tiled walls, there’s nobody else waiting for me leaning against the sink except the man of the hour, Tsukishima Kei, glasses glinting as he looks down at me.
“You idiot,” he says, voice low, “you can’t just storm out of class like that. They sent me after you to make sure you’re not dead.”
“Well, I’m not dead,” I laugh slightly, and squint my eyes to make it genuine. He doesn’t react. “Why’d they send you, not class president or something?”
“That’s a stupid question,” he responds coolly, and turns away. I just watch him go, but not before my eyes flit to the counter where his hand was resting. His hand is gone, but in it’s place is two peach-colored pills. Stomach medicine. The only brand I can tolerate (although I’ve only ever told one person that). I spare a half-smile, and then walk over to the sink and fill my palm with water, putting both pills down in one go. Stupid question. Can you blame me? I just want to hear him say it. Say why he’s special to me, and why I’m special to him. If I even am.
No, that’s not true, I shake my head feverishly. Tsukki waits for me outside my house if I’m late so we can walk to school together. Tsukki eats lunch with me everyday. Tsukki partners up with me in every class. Tsukki and I talk so much that teachers have to seperate us in class. Tsukki thinks I’m a “cool guy.” Tsukki hasn’t let anybody bully me since we were kids. Tsukki knows my order at every ramen place and what stomach medicine I can handle. I know that should be enough. I know I should be grateful. I know that should be more than enough.
It’s not enough.
This is not enough.
***
“Tsukki!! Tsukki, wait up! Tsukki!” High noon sun beat down on my neck, and the air was too humid to even breathe properly, but I raced forward nonetheless, as fast as my six-year-old legs could carry me. My knees were scraped and scabby from where the other elementary schoolers had pushed me down on the concrete again, and bandages littered my fingers from volleyball practice. Worst of all, summer only made my freckles pop out more. In the winter, they were the shadows of stars on a cloudy backdrop, visible only to those in the immediate vicinity, but in the summer, they stood out as starkly as blotches of magma on pale skin. It didn’t even matter if I avoided the sun. They appeared every year when June rolled around, as reliable as the calendar itself. The bane of a little kid’s existence. But now, there was Tsukki.
“Please take me with you,” I panted, by the time I finally reached him. My fingers caught his sleeve. He was already almost a foot taller than me, but he didn’t stop his stride even as I clung to his arm.
“Take you with me where?” His voice practically dripped in annoyance, but he didn’t push me off of him. He just kept walking. I shot him a grin that he didn’t notice, and let go of his sleeve, walking in step next to him, trying to find a sync in our walking patterns. (It would only take me a couple of days before I could comfortably keep up with him, but it would be another couple of months until our walking paces lined up exactly. It would be about a year until walking in-step with each other became a habit, ingrained in my legs, and that would be around the same time I would notice that although his legs had gotten longer, his pace had gotten a little slower. It wasn’t just me who had changed for him).
“W-with your other friends, of course!” It had only been a couple of weeks since I had met him for the first time in the playground, and I had yet to meet his other friends. But, I was sure they were just as cool and powerful as he was.
“What are you talking about?” Again, he seemed genuinely annoyed, but he hadn’t pushed me onto the ground or said anything terribly nasty, so I couldn’t find it within myself to leave him alone.
“You… wherever you’re going, I wanna come!” I stuck out my chest, almost boasting. “I wanna meet- meet your friends.” (It would take me only a couple of weeks to figure out that Tsukki didn’t have any other friends. It would take me much longer to realize that this wasn’t necessarily by choice).
“I’m not going to meet any friends, dipshit,” he snapped, and gestured to the bag he was carrying, where a little green fishing net stuck out. “I’m going to catch frogs.”
“By yourself?” I tilted my head curiously. “What if you fall in the pond?” His eyes narrowed and he glanced off to the side.
“Then I’ll just climb out.” The way he said it was so confident that it made me question why I even asked, and it ripped my breath away.
“Can I come?”
“No.”
But the next day I chased him down that same street, there were two nets sticking out of his bag.
***
My stomach starts to hurt again around my third period of the day, but I know I’m not sick, and I probably won’t throw up again. I just feel desperate when I start to think about my situation, like I have to get out of the room or the walls will fall down and swallow me whole. I can’t run out of class again, though. There’s nowhere left to escape to, so I just sit in my chair, arms folded across my stomach, and try to think about. Something else. Anything else. My eyes bore a hole into the scratched up desk in front of me. There’s crude drawings and equations, but mostly just the remnants of young lovers from the past half-century, their initials carved into the wood
It’s times like this where I deeply wish I had better control over my body. In the ideal world, I could just will my heart to stop racing and my stomach to stop twisting and my palms to stop sweating and they would follow my command. Even if I just had a normal amount of control, I could head down to the gymnasium and smash out some satisfying spikes or serves. Maybe I’d get a glimpse of that ultra-awesome feeling when the ball strikes your palm that Hinata always talks about. Maybe I’d get a glance at the spot on the other side of the wall that Asahi has described with a dreamy tone. But no. I can only serve well when I’m in the right mindset. I can only serve well if I’m not running away, and all I want to do right now is run away. So there’s nothing to do except sink a little farther in my seat and try not to throw up.
“Yamaguchi.” I flash my eyes open a little wider, and tilt my head to look up at Tsukishima, who must’ve come from the next class over. I’m decently tall, even when sitting down, but I still have to actually crane my neck to meet his eyes. “Shimizu dropped by. Practice is canceled for the day because of gym renovations.”
“Oh, ok,” I laugh nervously, closing my eyes. I already know that Kageyama and Hinata are making plans to get some extra practice anyway, hatching away their freakish plots, but I feel nothing besides overwhelming gratitude that some god had enough mercy on me to spare me practice for the day. I don’t think my heart or my body could take it. Tsukki lingers by my desk for a moment longer, making me blink curiously. He delivered his message, but didn’t briskly walk away, meaning there’s something else he wants to say. Ah. I know what it is. “Let’s go to your place after school, then, if there’s nothing else to do, ok, Tsukki??”
“Can’t stop you, can I?” With that, he turns and walks away, shoulders slouched, hands seemingly glued to his pockets. I take a quick breath and turn my attention back to my desk. I know Tsukki, inside and out. Yet, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get him to do the one thing I want more than any material item in the world. A response.
I’m stuck.
***
“Tsukki! Tsukki!”
It was the first day of junior high. Last year, I had spent my first season ever of volleyball playing alongside Tsukki. There were a few very important things I had learned over the school year. I learned how to receive a ball, and how to underhand serve, and what terms like ‘setter’ or ‘spiker’ meant. I had also learned that nobody made fun of me when Tsukki was around; that even if he said to shut up or go away, he didn’t mind if I clung to his side like a leech; that he didn’t actually have any friends either. When I finally learned that last fact, it really confused me for several months, but nobody touched Tsukki even with a seven-foot pole. His scowl and foul attitude scared them away, so they never seemed to notice how cool or tall or impressive or talented he was. Even when he teased and egged on people, my face hot in awe at how cool he was.
(Eventually, this feeling faded, and, empowered by the safe feeling of standing in his shadow, I joined him in teasing people. We never went too far, of course, but our senses of humor multiplied off each other, and we could be vicious if somebody deserved it. Although hilarious and secretly highly amusing, this permanently sealed our fate as friendless outcasts, but I never needed them anyway. Not when I had him).
Now, he stood in front of my house, backpack on his back, school uniform spotless except for the white headphones hanging around his neck. He looked at me with the same bored expression, so cruel that if I was anybody else, I would probably wither immediately. But, if I was anybody else, I wouldn’t notice that Tsukki was waiting for me to jump out my door and walk with him to school.
I didn’t have to wait for further invitation. “Tsukki!”
“Come on, you idiot. We’re going to be late,” he snapped, but I could do nothing but beam as I slid into sync next to him.
“Are you excited for your first day?? I feel so nervous, I could throw up.”
“Hopefully the idiots from last year aren’t in our class again.”
“Doubtful. Last I checked, you have to be at least semi-literate to progress in any sort of educational establishment. So I think they’re safe.” He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth did tilt up in approval as I gave a mean little laugh.
“By the way,” he said suddenly. “My mom wants you to come to our place after school.”
“Why?” Shock rocked my body down to the core.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? I don’t care if you come or not.” I stopped walking as the realization shook me.
“I’ll be there!” I grinned. “I’m so glad we’re friends. I like you a lot!” The words caught on my tongue, but slipped out nonetheless. He didn’t even blink.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
“Sorry, Tsukki!”
***
When the lunch bell rings, I practically sprint out of my seat. I know Tsukki will be expecting me. I know he’ll have a spot cleared out on his desk for me to set my lunch, a chair coincidentally open for me to pull up. When I don’t show up, he won’t stand up and go to check if I’m coming over, but he might mention something to me on the walk home. But I can’t stomach the sight of seeing his face at the moment. I just… I just can’t face him. I’m sure this is just another obstacle that I need to find a solution for. I’m not running away… I’m just, getting a second opinion, that’s all.
But who, I ponder as I march through the hall, do I ask for advice on Tsukki when I’m the only one who even knows Tsukki? The answer is simple. Someone who can give advice to even the craziest of simpletons on any topic.
“Yacchi-san?” I try to calm my nerves as I wrap my fingers around the doorframe and peek into the advanced class on lunch break. Nobody really gives me a second glance, but I hear a familiar squeak, and look in the back left corner of the room. Perched in her chair, a familiar blonde-haired girl looks at me with surprise, the blue beads in her hair swishing as she tilts her head. I gulp, and then make my way across the room, sliding into the empty chair in front of her.
“Oh, Yamaguchi, it’s just you,” she sighs, placing a hand over her heart. “I almost had a heart attack.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” I apologize profusely, but she shakes her head quickly.
“No, no, it’s fine! I just wasn’t expecting anyone. The girls who normally invite me to lunch already left, because I said I had to study, but…” she looks forlornly at the English assignment on her desk, and then folds it up and slides it under her seat. “If you need something, I’m here. That’s my job after all!”
“As assistant team manager?”
“And as your friend,” she giggles awkwardly. I feel a deep blush rock down to my toes. Right. The volleyball team at Karasuno comes with automatic friends, and Yachi is definitely in that category, as bizarre as the phenomenon may seem to me.
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt your homework…” I trail off, but she shakes her head again.
“No, no, don’t worry about it! What’s up? What can I help you with?” She folds her hands over her desk, and I hesitate, glancing out the window. I was in such a hurry to think of someone to help me, to find some way to relieve the unbearable pressure, that I didn’t actually think of how to put my problem into words.
“Well… Yachi-san, have you ever liked someone?”
“Hm? Like romantically?” She tilts her head. I blush again but nod. “Sure. Like, once a week, at least!”
“Oh, I meant more like… for a long time.”
“How long?”
“Um…” I pretend to count on my fingers, just because having the answer right at the tip of my tongue seems too embarrassing. “Ten years?”
“Oh…” the word leaves her mouth like a breath as her eyebrows wrinkle together, in pity and understanding. “That’s a long time… Yamaguchi-kun, is this about Tsukishima-kun?”
“Um…” I stare at the floor, wringing my hands together. “...yes?”
“Thank you for telling me,” she says first. I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve never really had serious crushes before Tsukki, and I had been confessing for almost as long as I’d known him, so I never really felt compelled to keep my feelings a secret from anyone else. I’ve never understood the compulsion some have to keep their feelings a secret, but I can’t really blame them. That’s just their version of running away. Still, if I think about it, I suppose Yachi is the first other person I’ve told.
“Y-yeah, I guess,” is all I end up mumbling.
“S-s-so, if you don’t mind me asking,” she stutters, picking up my bad habit before she shakes her head, stops, and clears her throat. “Sorry.” Her voice is ten times calmer, and when she looks at me, her expression almost mimics Shimizu-senpai. I blink. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you need advice on?”
“Since last match, all of a sudden, I can’t stand being near him. I’m just scared. I was fine with things being the way they were, but now, I can’t help from wanting more. I’ve like, tasted victory, you know?” Once I’ve started, I can’t stop. “And now, I just wanna. I don’t know… The idea of forcing Tsukkishima into an answer or something terrifies me. I mean, he doesn’t feel the same, so all of these sudden feelings make no sense. But for some reason, I just can’t stand being near him. I want more for the first time in my life. I’m so angry, and afraid, and nervous…”
“Do you know for sure he doesn’t feel the same?”
“Well. I’m probably the only person in the world who can tell what Tsukki is thinking most of the time. I know more about him than any other person, even if I sound kinda vain for saying that.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“I can tell when he wants to leave or when he wants to make fun of somebody. I can tell when he’s trying his hardest and when he’s slacking off. I can tell what he thinks about anyone the moment they enter the room. I’m the only one who I think has ever been over to his house, and I’m the only one who knows why he thinks of volleyball the way he doesn’t.”
“It sounds like Tsukkishima is a very special friend.” She sounds like a therapist, but her eyes are genuine, so I don’t mind. I don’t think my mouth could stop talking even if I tried to make it.
“So yeah, I know he doesn’t feel the same. That’s fine, really. Or at least, it used to be fine. Now, I’m not sure… I just! I don’t know. All of a sudden, I can’t even stand to face him. I know I’m just going back to old habits of being a coward, but…”
“Well, have you tried… telling him how you feel?” She asks innocently. I stumble over my words.
“I- yes, I have. Um, several times. Um… maybe, like, twelve times…” I finally admit pathetically. She blinks.
“ What ?”
“I’ve told Tsukki I like him… twelve times since we’ve been friends.”
“And how has he responded?” She demands, throwing her hands on her desk and standing up, suddenly invested. The first-years nearby finally give up and grab their lunches, moving away from us.
“He hasn’t!” I moan, throwing my head back. “He just sort of grunts or ignores me. It’s so- argh! I don’t know!”
“That’s awful!” She exclaims, looking more outraged than me. “Jeez, Yamaguchi-kun.”
“I know.”
“But you guys are together all the time! I’m sorry, just- how has it never come up?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, staring at my hands. “Up until recently, I was fine with things being the way they were. It was just another way of flattering Tsukki, which, of course, I don’t mind at all. But the match with Shiratorizawa changed things for both of us, I guess.”
“How did it change things?”
“I just…” I trail off. “It’s like I have two different sides arguing inside me now.” I try to make it sound like I’m not insane as I feel. “The old coward is still there, and he says that things are fine the way they are now. And then there’s the person who has tasted victory and wants more. I want to be more with Tsukki, but at the very least, at least get some sort of response or something. But this conflict is tearing me apart and making me feel…” I trail off.
“Ok, so, I suppose you have two options,” she thinks out loud. “You can either sit him down and try to confess a little more genuinely. Instead of just saying you like him, maybe use a different word, and explain yourself a little more. Force him into an answer.”
“Ah, I definitely can’t do that,” I laugh nervously, but my stomach feels awful just at the thought.
“Or you can try confessing more. Say it over and over again over the span of a short time period- this week, for example- and see if it gets through his thick skull. For being so smart, he can’t possibly be stupid enough to ignore that. And I’m sure he wouldn’t maliciously ignore you…” She trails off. “This must just be some kind of big misunderstanding.
“Well…” I think. “I guess I’ve already said it, so saying it more shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
“Of course not!” She answers cheerfully. “Let’s see, it’s Monday today, right? Try to confess once a day through this week. Get his attention!” She gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up, and I smile gratefully. The desperation in my chest has eased slightly just at the marvel of talking to someone else about my incredibly strange situation.
“Thanks, Yachi-san!”
***
I knew I had romantic feelings for Tsukki in primary school, but I was pretty content with just having those feelings from the distance. It wasn’t until when I was twelve years old (two confessions in) when I actually realized I actually had a strong desire to be more than just best friends with Tsukki.
We went everywhere together. We walked everywhere together. We talked about everything together. I knew his family, who adored me, I think just because they thought Tsukki was finally making friends and growing out of his foul personality. I never had the heart to tell them that no, he was just as foul as he’d always been, but for some reason, our personalities just happened to fit together. I was just the right person that he found unannoying enough to be around, and I didn’t have enough ego to begin with that could get hurt by his constant remarks. So to me, my romantic feelings for him were nothing more than another bullet point on a great list of the things I admired about Tsukkishima Kei.
It wasn’t until I saw another couple in our grade doing couple-y things that all of a sudden, things shifted ever so slightly. They held hands on the way to class and I found myself staring at Tsukki’s long fingers. They went on dates every day after school and I started to mentally compile a list of places I wish Tsukki and I could go. They kissed in the bathrooms and when I thought about Tsukki in that way, my face would turn bright red during class.
But Tsukki was Tsukki. The only real good thing that I had in my life. My wants were not as important as what we had. So when I confessed again, and he still didn’t respond, I think that was when it started to hurt, just a little bit more than I would’ve liked to admit.
***
After a decade, you’d think I’d get used to the sight of Tsukki waiting for me after school. But no, every time, it shocks me like an electric shock.
“Tsukki!” I crow happily, the sight of him almost enough to make me forget the feeling in my chest and what I told Yachi. I suppose it might’ve been a slight exaggeration to say I couldn’t stomach the sight of him. It was a strange paradox, where all I wanted was to be near him, and yet, just like at the bathrooms before the awards ceremony, I felt too pent-up to stand still when I was near him. I had started to want, and there didn’t seem to be any going back. I wanted to grab his hand or throw myself around his shoulders or rest my head in the crook of his neck so bad that it was nearly driving me crazy. I compromise and drum a pattern on my thigh with my fingers as we walk. “Are you glad practice was canceled?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Before the Shiratorizawa match, I would’ve said yeah, just for the free afternoon. But there are new plays I want to try out. Volleyball has become sort of… fun.”
“That’s great, Tsukki,” I grin, genuinely happy for him. “Ya’know, I sort of came to a similar realization myself. I hope they open up the gym this week.”
“Mm,” is all he gives me in response for several long moments. “Is your stomach feeling better?”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” I laugh nervously. “The medicine helped loads, thanks so much!”
“Mm.” He doesn’t say much else until we reach his house and step up to the front door. I have the key his brother gave me in my pocket, whereas his is all the way in the backpack, so I just unlock the door and let him into his own home. Then, I follow him in, and we perch at his kitchen counter, homework at the ready, falling into our steady rhythm of studies. Tsukki is better at English and literature stuff, whereas I’m better at science and social studies. We both excel at math to the same degree.
“Are you done?” His voice interrupts me, and I glance up to see that he’s finished all of his work even though we’ve only been at the counter for a couple of hours. Then I glance down at my sheet and realize that I’m almost done.
“Yeah, just let me… ok, all done. What’s up?” Without saying anything, he puts his hands forward and slides his headphones around my ears. I blink up at him as he fiddles with the adjustment, fingers brushing against my hair and sending an electrical current through my body, and then steps back to tap something on my phone.
“You look stressed,” he explains in a bored tone, voice muffled by the cushy headphones. “Chill out, you idiot.” With a tap, soft music starts to play. I recognize the song- he’s played it a million times in his room when I’m over, although that’s not saying much. I probably recognize all this music.
“Thanks,” I whisper softly, and bring my hands up to press down on the headphones firmly. “You’re kind of sweet, ya'know?” I get flashbacks to the night I yelled at him, when he smiled at the end and told me I was kind of cool. Apparently it’s ok for us to say that to each other.
“Mm.”
“I like you a lot.”
“You don’t have to yell, the music is louder to you than it is to me.” With that, he turned away, sweeping his folders into his backpack and heading down the hallway. And I know, I know that that’s my cue to follow him, but for some reason my legs are glued to the floor, and my eyes are brimming with tears even as his favorite musician blasts gently in my ears, all bass guitar and raspy vocals.
Is he even taking me seriously?