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you regret coming to this frat party about five minutes in.
your disdain reaches its peak after an hour and a half as you mournfully sip at the concoction masquerading as punch in your solo cup, not even halfheartedly listening to the man seated beside you on the deck steps, name already forgotten as he drones on about a topic you’ve also forgotten. you’ve tried every polite rebuff you could think of (even threw in a few not-so-polite ones) but apparently this guy is a warrior not to be deterred. sure, you can leave, but that would mean going back inside to the chaos within that exists without so much as room to really breathe— you know because you’ve checked, hence why you’re outside in the first place. yamaguchi’s still inside somewhere with some old teammates from karasuno, and while you’d had fun with the reunion earlier, you had to tap out as your social battery started to quickly diminish from the group’s intensity; it's just your luck that yamaguchi happens to be your ride home.
and so you stay reluctantly planted where you are, eyes locked to your phone while you occasionally send a distant mm-hmm to the guy as he speaks. swirling the dark liquid in your cup, you think back to the warmth and comfort of your bed, the movies you could be catching up on from your watchlist; hell, even studying would be preferable to the shithole of a night it's been. but no, you had to want to get out and have fun and do something different to take your mind off things .
you decide then and there to never leave your comfort zone ever again.
multicolored light bounces off your skin as you absentmindedly scroll through instagram, contemplating just saying fuck it and calling an uber home (low bank account be damned) until something shifts in the conversation. you’re not sure if it’s what he said or how he said it but you’re suddenly much more aware of the conversation in a way you nearly immediately wish you weren’t.
“no but really, we’d be good together, i think,” he’s saying (almost slurring, really) while you muster all your willpower to keep your face neutral. “thinkin’ we could go out, maybe get a drink sometime?”
a battle is lost in your internal war when you feel your brows furrow. “um, no, thank you,” you mutter, “really don’t think that would be a good idea.” you begin to turn more fully away, head facing your phone again, when you hear him laugh lightheartedly. you’d give him credit for his tenacity if it weren’t so agitatingly hyperfocused on you.
“come onnn, sweetheart. i promise i can show you a good time, better than any of those pricks in there-”
you’d long forgotten that the back door was left open, and you’re so caught up in sending an sos text to yamaguchi that you don’t hear the footsteps behind you as the guy gets cut off. the shiver that races down your spine when the figure speaks is unmistakable though, because you’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“pretty clear you just got rejected, buddy. unless you’ve got a humiliation kink you should probably leave right about now.”
“huh? th’ hell did you just s-” your unwanted companion starts to yell, but then he turns and has to crane his neck to look up at the party crasher. the rest of whatever he’s about to say must die on his tongue, likely due to just how much he has to angle his head to take in the entirety of the 6’4 frame in front of him that looks even bigger and broader when being seen from below. you’re suffering from the opposite problem of trying not to look at him, though your eyes may have flitted towards the blond once or twice. maybe.
“sorry, what was that? it’s a bit loud, you’ll have to speak up a bit.” tsukishima’s grinning from ear to ear as he speaks, tone friendly and sickeningly jovial. the man next to you takes to huffing and grumbling under his breath before wobbling upright. he sends one last fleeting glance in your direction and he turns on his heel, sloppy gait carrying him back inside before he’s getting wrangled away by some other random. the breath you hadn’t realized you’ve been holding falls from your lips in a woosh, and you have about a second to feel relief at your freedom.
until you realize that now you’re left alone with tsukishima, and you’re left trying to keep your brain together as you feel it begin to short circuit.
you’re not really sure when the shift happened. tsukishima kei has been a overgrown thorn in your side since you were both four years old, with yamaguchi usually having to play mediator during the times you threatened to beat him up after him making fun of you. it must have been around age 12, you decide. that was when you began to notice just how much he towered over you; it was a lot less fun to try and intimidate him after that. his voice changed too, a deeper tone that made you feel weird, the same feeling in your tummy when he spoke as when you had actual lines in the school play the year before.
still, you remained oh so blissfully unaware of your blooming feelings until high school, during which you subsequently lost your shit and did everything you could to gaslight yourself into forgetting the realization. it kind of worked, actually— you convinced yourself he was nothing more than an alien who spawned into your life that you somehow just couldn’t get rid of, and the two of you spent the next four years still orbiting around each other, but with your own respective paramours, though neither of you had anything particularly serious.
not far into sophomore year of college, for some unfathomable reason, the pandora’s box was suddenly opened, and everything you’d worked so hard to trap emerged with a tenfold vengeance, its strength steadily growing even more over the next year until reaching its peak last month. it's been so bad that recently you’ve been spending more free time almost anywhere else than with your childhood friends, claiming sickness or the need to study.
which makes tsukishima’s sudden appearance in front of you quite problematic.
he’s smirking down at you after having watched the stranger return to the party. “you’re welcome, by the way,” he drawls out, ignoring the way you roll your eyes as he crouches beside you, making himself comfortable next to you on the steps as he props his head on his hand.
“what are you, a guard dog?” you mutter your gratitudes almost under your breath, turning your head to your drink.
“someone clearly needs one.”
tsukishima follows your gaze to the cup he didn’t realize you’re holding and frowns, reaching out and grabbing the plastic from your hands. you sputter out a complaint but he pays you no attention, raising the cup closer to his nose and sniffing, grimacing, and finally unceremoniously throwing the cup onto the lawn.
“what the hell, i was drinking that!”
“then you’re welcome once again, dumbass.” he settles back and considers you, hunched over your phone as far on the other side of the wooden step as you can physically get. “why are you even at a party like this, anyway?”
you flinch.
“needed a distraction.” you’re eternally grateful your voice is even and finally turn to face him, a single eyebrow quirked up at him. “if anything i should be asking you that, four-eyes.” he sighs in response, running a hand through his hair and leaning back further against the steps.
“yamaguchi wouldn’t stop hounding me about it,” he groans out tiredly. “as though i don’t work to actively avoid the guys from high school as it is.”
“d’aww, they love you too, tsukki.” without thinking you reach out, fingers finding his cheek as you pinch the slightly warm skin lightly. he grumbles under his breath and shoves your hand away, which works just as well because touching him for some reason makes you feel completely mortified.
“you’re all aggravating,” he says. “seriously, and what is with you and always attracting the most pathetic guys imaginable?”
you frown; even if he’s kind of right, he doesn’t need to say it. “hey, besides that guy they haven’t all been terrible. although in his defense he was drunk, so-”
“and you’re in denial. it was the same thing back in high school. you looked so miserable all the time it almost made me nauseous, and yet you kept chasing after those losers.”
“yeah, well that was because i really was always practically in love with-” you instantly snap your mouth shut because yeah what the fuck are you saying .
in hindsight, indulging in party punch really might not have been the best idea you’ve ever had.
“you were what?”
in the blink of an eye you find yourself in a worst-case scenario: being scrutinized by the man known for his observational skill and all because of your own big mouth. tiny drops of perspiration bead on your palms and you try to discreetly wipe your hands on your jeans while simultaneously contemplating how to live a full life without ever leaving your house again.
“not important. and anyway, you’re one to talk. i remember none of your relationships lasting very long either, casanova.” you pray desperately to any deity that exists that he takes the bait.
elation flows from you in waves when he thankfully does. “that was… partially my fault,” he replies and he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck. “but even then, they were never as bad as yours.”
his words pique your interest, as well as his tone, and you cock your head in confusion. “your fault? what did you do?” then you freeze, blood running cold at the smirk he flashes at you.
“tell me who you were in love with first.”
you’re certain you’ve never hated anyone more in your life. “okay one, i said practically . two, it’s a figure of speech, and three, it's none of your business.”
“you’re so obvious when you get caught.” he’s laughing now, though he at least tries to stop when you glare at him.
“fine,” you reluctantly mutter, “if you must know, i may have had a thing for someone back then. but he was a jerk, so it never mattered. now spit it out: what did you do? you said it was your fault they didn’t work out.”
“partially,” he corrects. “i couldn’t see anything lasting with any of them regardless, which is no one’s fault. looking back though, i realized part of it may because i was… projecting expectations onto them.”
you tilt your head. “i don’t follow.”
that’s when tsukishima starts to fidget, which is odd in itself because fidgeting isn’t a very tsukishima trait. his fingers drum against the wood and he closes his eyes, shaking his head softly.
“i … it’s possible that i wanted them to act more like someone i knew i couldn’t have, and everything was doomed from the start.”
“didn’t think you were the pining type.”
“shut up.” he turns to you then, and something in the way his eyes hold yours feels charged in a way you’ve never felt. it locks you to his gaze, unmoving as he continues. “there was no way i even had a chance…”
the air between you hangs heavy with words unsaid. your brow furrows while his eyes fall over your face, searching your features for something before—
“hold on…” you’re sputtering out at the same time he’s exclaiming, “w-wait, did you…?” a moment passes as you both freeze, gears turning in each of your heads before you let out a strained laugh, turning to him with an incredulous expression.
“no, you’re screwing with me. there’s no way you-”
but the words are shattered before they can form when you get a look at tsukishima’s face— the parts he isn’t hiding with the back of his hand, that is. you can still faintly make out the rosy tint of his skin from behind his fingers, and the way his eyes are frantically trying to focus on anything that isn’t you…
oh, you’re about to lose your shit. nostalgic.
“you.. you liked me?!” you shriek and he jumps at the volume of your voice (definitely not from your words). “why the hell didn’t you ever say anything?!”
“ huh?! w-why would… i figured you’d kick me in the balls or try to actually beat the shit out of me! you should have said something!” his arms are raised in defense at the way you’re smacking at his shoulder.
“what, for you to laugh in my face? are you out of your mind?!”
there’s silence, save from your heavy breathing, as you process the gravity of the revelation you’d both just experienced. it feels like something grand, something important and precious unfitting for the setting of the backyard deck at a seedy frat party, but beggars can’t be choosers. and you’re not sure if it’s the lingering effects of the alcohol or the tension of trying to keep a secret for over a decade, but despite the twisting in your stomach and the pounding of your heart, something shifts in your brain.
you decide to finally rip the bandaid.
“it’s… not just a past tense thing for me, y’know?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but you know that he hears you. “not for a while now.”
you’re refusing to look at him, which was a mistake, because you could’ve seen the stunned expression on his face as he gapes at you. the way he has to blink a couple of times as though he didn’t understand the words you just said, has to take a steadying breath to compose himself.
“oh?” you hear that teasing tone, turn to see that stupid smirk on his face, and yeah, you’re definitely gonna kill him one day.
“see?! this is exactly what i was afraid of, you asshole!” you try to swat at him again but this time he grabs your wrist, dragging it down and pressing your hand against the wood beside you.
“really? i’m not laughing.” which is… true, you concede. he’s moved closer to you at some point, making your heart leap into your throat but also giving you a clearer view of his face, redder than you’ve ever seen it, blush crawling down his neck into the collar of his sweater.
“so this is why you’ve been avoiding us.”
you jolt; of course he would mention it. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” the look he shoots you, flat and unamused, makes anything else you were going to say melt away. until his expression softens, which makes you speechless for an entirely different reason.
“didn’t expect how much i’d want to see you,” he murmurs, and suddenly you’re not entirely convinced you aren’t wasted right now. “how much i actually like… having you around.” you feel his thumb run over your wrist, gently caressing the skin, as you’re left to sift through the plethora of emotions coursing through you. out of everything, what you feel most is a disbelief— at what’s happening, the unfortunate series of events that led to it, but also at the time that had been lost, wasted in the years where you thought you had nothing but your pride.
“how long?”
it’s like he’s psychic, somehow. you try to turn away, embarrassment coating your every nerve, but you don’t make it very far before a gentle hand catches your chin, shifting you back to face him. you expect to be met with a smirk but his features are soft and serious once he comes into view, and you try to ignore the swooping feeling in your stomach as nervousness and anticipation threaten to eat you alive.
“since… since we were in junior high.”
he pauses, eyes widening a fraction before returning back to normal, lips parting to release a quiet gasp that you can only barely hear. the reaction makes you feel even more exposed for some reason and you fidget slightly in his hold. “your turn,” you murmur, a bit surprised by how soft your own voice sounds in your own ears.
his tone mirrors yours. “guess,” he says.
your brain flits back to when you were 8 and he agreed to push you on the swing set, even after loudly complaining about how lame you were. to the haphazard bouquet of park flowers he thrust in your face in apology when you were 13 after making you cry during an argument. to senior year of high school, when he’d nearly made your ex-boyfriend piss himself when confronted for cheating on you; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen tsukishima so angry. and then, your brain hyperfocuses on the now, on the dreamy-eyed look on his face, a look that feels inherently familiar because of all the brief glimpses you’ve gotten over the years.
tsukishima might be right– maybe you are an idiot.
you groan out in exasperation, hands clutching at the hem of his sweater as you feel yourself drawing even nearer to him. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it shocks you how welcome it is because you hadn’t realized you were cold. “i can’t believe you,” you grumble, pouting. “you really could’ve told me ages ago. you’re the worst .”
warmth explodes across your skin when you feel his forehead press against your own. he’s close enough to you now that his lips almost brush over yours, close enough that you can almost feel his smile against your mouth. it’s a genuine smile, one that you really don’t see very often, and suddenly you’re giddy .
“i know,” he breathes.
later, you both would separately claim to have been the one to make the first move. it doesn’t really matter, though, not here, not when you can feel the gentleness of tsukishima’s touch holding your cheek as your lips meet. it’s soft, tentative and testing, but it’s enough to dull everything else in your brain to a subdued murmur. really, there’s no way you could think of much else when his fingers travel to your chin again, tilting your head for better access and gripping slightly tighter after the short gasp you let escape at the feeling of his tongue meeting yours.
you’re unsure of how much time passes before you reluctantly pull back for air, eyes starry and wide as you gaze at tsukishima’s face.
“i bet you’ve had daydreams about doing that,” you whisper, grinning. he doesn’t need to know that you did, too.
“do you ever stop talking?”
but he’s smiling too as he leans in to kiss you again.