Archive of Our Own

Here’s a truth: On the scale from nothing to greatness, part of Kei still thinks it’s better to be nothing than to fail somewhere along the way. 

Here’s another truth: Kei doesn’t think he’ll ever be great.

✧✧✧

Five days into the summer break between second and third year, Kei spends two weeks at his grandmother’s house.

It’s not too big of a change—she lives on the other side of town—but it’s enough of a change to knock him off-balance.

The first day goes well. So does the second.

It’s on the third that he stops sleeping.

Tick tick tick, goes the clock like it's mocking him. 

Kei rolls onto his side. The bed squeaks, too loud in the black of the night. It feels like he's been awake for an eternity, tossing and turning. 

He rolls onto his back, eyes blinking open to stare at the ceiling. They feel strangely hot, while his cheeks are clammy. Dry against the night air.

Strips of light speckle the ceiling, falling in through the shutters from the streetlamp right outside the window. He counts the ticking of the clock, second after second. By the time he reaches eighty he loses count.

His breathing is loud to his own ears. Suddenly he feels too aware. Of everything.

He’s tense as he forces himself to inhale, exhale. Inhale again. His heartbeat is unsteady. Shivering, he tightens the blanket around him.

The human body will automatically fall asleep when it doesn't move for fifteen minutes, he remembers reading once. He doesn't know if it's true. Surely, it must've been fifteen minutes already.

Does blinking count? His eyes flutter shut. Swirling patterns dance behind his eyelids, painting the blackness that awaits. His head throbs, his foot twitches.

Fifteen minutes, restart.

Tick tick tick, goes the clock. His mind drifts.

Have you been working too hard? Your face looks slimmer. Always so diligent, were the first words his grandmother said to him two days ago. 

Are you just going to laze around all summer, is what she said this morning at breakfast. 

Breathe, he tells himself, breathe. His fingers curl into fists.

Do you want to end up like your brother? His skin crawls. His nails dig into his skin. He forces himself to relax, uncurling his fingers. He breathes.

The mattress is hard. He can feel his pulse pounding in his back, all the way up to his throat. Deep in the lining of his stomach. For a moment it's in time with the clock, then it speeds up again. The sound is too loud. 

His whole body shakes with the force of his own heartbeat

You used to be such a good—

He forcefully pushes himself upright, blinding reaching for the nightstand in search of his phone. He finds the charger first, following its smooth cable toward the bottom of his phone.

He grabs and unlocks it with one swift motion, squinting at the lock screen. 5:28 a.m.

Last time he checked it was still four. He sighs, rubbing at his eyes, before turning his phone toward the nightstand, using its faint blue glow to locate his glasses. He grabs them, slides them on, unplugging his phone at the same time.

He can't stay here any second longer.

Next are his headphones, placed neatly on the bookshelf where he put them hours ago. Another failed attempt to lull himself to sleep.

He doesn't bother changing out of his pyjamas, only slipping into a thick knit sweater.

Leaving his keys in the desk drawer, he tiptoes down the stairs, headphones dangling around his neck, phone in a death grip. Near the door are his sneakers. He slips into them with bare feet, too exhausted to be grossed out by the sensation.

A couple more steps, then he's out the door.

The night air is cold and stings. Kei shivers despite the woollen sweater. It used to belong to his father, apparently Kei inherited his height from him, and it's well worn, fraying at the seams. When he glances down, a thread has come loose by the hem of his left arm.

If he were to pull it, the entire thing would come undone, he thinks. How fitting.

His feet carry him down the familiar streets of his grandmother's neighbourhood until he ends up at the old playground. The one he and Akiteru used to go to play volleyball together.

He slips his headphones on, swipes at his phone screen to play some music. Slightly too loud. He can no longer hear his breathing.

There's a swing on the playground, one of those wide braided ones that children pile into by the dozen. Gingerly, he takes a seat on the corded edge, then he lies down, knees dangling over the edge. Thick rope digs painfully into his shoulder blades. His feet remain glued to the ground, he doesn't move.

He doesn't sleep.

Up above the night sky turns indigo at the edges. Not too long till sunrise. He doesn't move.

By the time the horizon turns a powdery blue, his headphones have died. He pulls himself upright, pushing them back down around his neck.

He freezes.

There's a figure at the edge of the playground. A familiar one. He knows those running shorts, knows the way that body moves.

"King?" he calls out in surprise before he can stop himself.

There's a reason Kei calls him King. One, long lost in the past. By now, it is mostly habit and something a little deeper he doesn't want to think about. Something that is a little possessive, a little twisted, something that likes to twist the knife in the wound and says you're better than me, you've always been better than me, am I good enough yet, look at me, look at me please, am I good enough.

Kageyama halts, twisting around to find the voice that called out to him. It doesn't take too long, there's literally no one else around.

Kageyama's eyes land on Kei, and he feels struck.

Lightning crackles, charging through him.

Kageyama steps closer.

Kei shuffles to the side, making room for Kageyama to sit down next to him.

To his surprise, Kageyama does.

“You look like shit,” he says in greeting, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gym jacket, feet kicking at the ground.

“Thanks King, you really know how to cheer a guy up,” Kei drawls.

“Shut up,” Kageyama mutters, still kicking at the ground. He is radiating warmth from his exertion, chest rising and falling slightly quicker than usual. On particularly deep breaths, his shoulder brushes against Kei's.

He doesn't move. Neither does Kei.

Instead, he leans into the touch, letting his head fall to the side, coming to rest on top of Kageyama's shoulder.

“Your wish is my command, your Majesty” he tries for a snide remark, but his tongue is sluggish and heavy in his mouth. He has never felt more tired than he does now.

Under his touch, Kageyama goes stiff. Kei counts the heartbeats.

One, two, three, four. A deep exhale and Kageyama relaxes again.

Kei allows his eyes to fall shut. The moment between them feels fragile, surreal. Private. A secret between two almost-friends, never-strangers.

✧✧✧

His grandmother asks him where he’s been and he shrugs and says ‘out’ . 

She reprimands him with a click of her tongue.

She asks him what his plans for the day are. 

“Reading,” he says, shoulders tightening. There’s a stack of manga he brought from home he’s been meaning to finally get around to.

She looks at him, mouth pressed together into a thin line. Hands him a cup of lukewarm tee. Lazy, she doesn’t say. 

No need. They’re both thinking it.

✧✧✧

Sometime around noon, he checks his phone. A new message from Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi

hey do you want to hang out today??

Kei bites his lip. 

Kei

can't I have to study

Yachi

so soon already? you always work so hard!!

It's Yachi, third and last member of their group chat. 

For a second it feels nice how impressed she is. Then he just feels empty.

✧✧✧

King

are u ok

Kei doesn’t reply.

✧✧✧

"Hey, asshole,” Kageyama calls out to him, pausing mid jog when he’s about to pass the playground again, harsh and cutting. Behind him the sky is turning a soft peachy orange. “You don't have to pretend to like me, you know. Just don’t bother." 

The words are forced out between gritted teeth, and Kei wants to scoff, because he’s been trying to do the exact opposite for as long as he can remember. 

Always so scared, always trying to protect himself.

A lot of good it has done him. Kei gets the inkling that he'll end up heartbroken regardless.

With a heavy exhale, he lets himself fall backwards into the swing. With every breath, rope digs into his ribs painfully.

“I’ve never pretended to like someone a day in my life, I’m not going to start now.” It’s as much of a concession as he can allow himself. He hopes it’s enough for Kageyama.

For a moment there’s only silence. Then, the crunching of footsteps on gravel, growing louder.

The balance of the swing set shifts, pulling Kei off centre.

He opens his eyes to find a pair of dark blue ones peering down at him. Like the ocean. Kei could drown himself in them if he tried.

“Asshole,” Kageyama says again, but this time it’s soft. Almost fond. It cracks Kei right down the middle.

“That’s me,” he replies, voice just as soft.

Kageyama still hasn’t looked away, pinning Kei with his gaze. He’s good at that. Seeing things Kei doesn’t want him to see.

He kicks at Kei’s ankle, sending a sharp flash of pain shooting through his bones. 

“Well, answer the question. Are you okay?”

Kei looks away, examining the horizon where the sun is starting to rise. His jaw tightens. “Did you know that sunrise and sunset are the only times we can observe the sun without damaging our eyes? It’s because the atmosphere—”

“You’re not okay,” Kageyama interrupts him.

“—is thicker that way. Well, not really thicker per se, but the angle changes. That matters.”

Kageyama hums. “I usually catch the sunrise on my morning runs. I like to watch. Sometimes I see this flash of green light.”

“Of course you do,” Kei says without thinking.

Kageyama bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kei’s tired, so the words slip right out. “Just means you’re special.”

✧✧✧

King

I think ur special too

stop sleeping on playgrounds asshole

✧✧✧

Yachi and Yamaguchi come to harass him into leaving the house. 

“You can’t just study all the time,” Yachi says as she tugs on his arm. 

Kei is a failure. He hasn’t studied for a single day. He doesn’t correct her. Let him be great in someone’s mind at least.

They go out to eat ice cream because Yamaguchi has been craving it, and they goad Yachi into doodling onto their napkins. 

She teaches Kei how to draw a little cat. 

Yamaguchi throws him worried glances. 

When they part ways, Kei asks Yachi for one of the napkins. She hands him one—a little frog—looking surprised, yet a little pleased, when he slips it into his wallet. 

✧✧✧

He’s so tired.

He still cannot sleep. 

Rolling over onto his side, he digs his wallet out of his drawer, pulls out the napkin to stare at it.

He can barely make out the inky lines in the dark, but it comforts him nonetheless.

Eventually he falls asleep, napkin still clutched in hand.

He wakes up an hour later.

 ✧✧✧

“Do you ever think if you cannot do better, you can at least do bigger?” he asks Kageyama in lieu of a greeting when he sits down on the swing next to him.

Kageyama takes his face in for a long moment.

Part of Kei wants to ask him if he likes what he sees. To his sluggish mind, that’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. He bites his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter.

“You can always do better,” Kageyama says eventually.

Kei rolls his eyes. The movement hurts a little. There’s a numb headache blooming right behind his forehead. 

“Easy for you to say.”

“Not me, you,” Kageyama says, voice taking on an impatient edge. “You’ve been improving. You always are.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Kei mumbles, eyes falling shut.

“That’s ‘cause you’re always looking at where people around you are, but never where you’ve been.”

Warm skin brushes against his tentatively as Kageyama reaches out, slipping his fingers between Kei's.

Neither of them moves.

The fragile moment between them, brittle as it is, perseveres.

✧✧✧

His fingers type the message before he can stop himself.

Kei

I haven’t been studying

I’ve been staring at my ceiling and doing nothing

The door to his grandmother’s spare bedroom slides open fifteen minutes later.

“Well, shit, Tsukki, that’s what break’s for,” Yamaguchi says, falling into bed next to Kei. His reply to Kei’s text, both a little too late and a little too early.

They’re lying shoulder to shoulder, pressed together, both too big for the single bed. 

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” Yamaguchi whispers after a while. He’s not talking about the ceiling anymore.

“I don’t know either,” Kei whispers back. That’s a lie. 

✧✧✧

“Should I be worried?” Kageyama asks. He doesn’t sit down this time.

Kei fights against a yawn. He loses.

“Are you?”

Kageyama doesn’t reply. Only stands there, staring at Kei.

“Come over for dinner tonight.”

✧✧✧

Kageyama’s sister opens the door to him. It’s not the first time Kei’s been over—second year was littered with study sessions—so Miwa just grins at him before waving him in. 

“Tobio’s in his room. He’s been talking about you coming over all day.” 

Kei doesn’t know what to do with that. How to live up to it. 

When he walks into the room, Kageyama is there, lying on his bed, keeping a volleyball steady in the air with soft thud thud thuds. He glances over at Kei. The ball doesn’t waver.

“Miwa-nee wants to try a new recipe today. We’ll have to help her.”

Kei hums in acceptance, although they both know he’s useless in the kitchen. 

He watches Kageyama toss the ball to himself for a while longer.

“Are you going to go pro after high school?”

Kageyama stops, catching the volleyball with ease, then lowering his arms to rest it against his chest. 

“I want to keep playing volleyball.” He glances at Kei. An unspoken question.

Kei thinks about it. He’s been thinking about it since the end of second year. Has been thinking about it since his grandmother opened the door for him and served him dinner with a side of what do you want to do with your life.

“Maybe I’ll go pro, too,” he says. He can’t bring himself to meet Kageyama’s gaze but those blue eyes sear through him regardless. “I’ve also been thinking about doing something different. Like, working at a museum, for example. I just don’t know which I like better.”

Finally, he lifts his eyes to meet Kageyama’s. They’re unwavering. 

“You could do it. Go pro, I mean,” Kageyama says, voice even and earnest and full of faith. “Both, even, if you wanted. You’re good enough.”

Usually Kei waves off comments like this. Because people only ever talk about the Kei he lets them see. The Kei he presents to the world. None of the judgements people apply to that Kei matter to the real him. 

But Kageyama sees. And he doesn’t care. 

He’s also not one for mincing his words. If he says he thinks Kei can do it, he really means it.

“Maybe,” Kei concedes. “I’ll have to figure out how to balance it.”

Kageyama looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Haven’t you been doing that already?”

✧✧✧

Kageyama dozes off after dinner. Head falling onto Kei’s shoulder where they’re sitting on the sofa, watching a random show on TV. 

At least that’s what Kei thinks until his fingers get a mind of their own, and reach out to card through inky black hair.

One touch, and Kageyama’s eyes flip open, searching Kei’s face. He stiffens.

Kei keeps his eyes trained on black strands of hair and his breathing as shallow as possible, suddenly very aware of the fact that they’ve consumed an obscene amount of garlic at dinner.

His fingers keep running through Kageyama’s hair. It’s thicker than Kei expected, yet soft to the touch.

He lowers his eyes to glance at Kageyama's face, trying to gauge his reaction.

Kageyama is staring at him, eyes wide and deep and blue, for once no frown on his face, only the faintest hint of a blush.

Kei freezes, then tears himself away like he's been burned, accidentally yanking on silky black strands of hair when he can't get his fingers to obey fast enough.

✧✧✧

Yamaguchi and Yachi invade his home, pulling Kei out to sit with them in the garden, drinking tea and eating half-burnt cookies that Yachi made. 

Yamaguchi pulls a magazine from out of nowhere, flipping through it idly.

Yachi is sketching the flowers in his grandmother’s garden. Irises, that’s what she’s currently working on.

“Oh wow, listen to this,” Yamaguchi pipes up. “Find your ideal guy in just 12 questions!” he reads out loud. 

Yachi muses over this with a short giggle. “Only twelve? Surely that can’t be enough.”

Kei steals a slip of paper from her. He wants to practise drawing cat.

“Okay, Tsukki, first question,” Yamaguchi barrels on. “ Which compliment would you appreciate the most? One, I can always count on you. Two, it’s never boring with you. Well, definitely not that one. I think Tsukki would consider that an insult.”

Yachi giggles some more.

Kei glares at both of them but it lacks heat.

“Three, you have great taste. Four, you really get me.”

Kei clicks his tongue. “All of these are stupid.”

“Oooh, let’s do our own options then,” Yachi perks up with the idea. “I’ll start. One, oh Tsukki, you’re so smart and impressive.”  

“If anybody says that to me, I’m running the other direction. You sound like a bad confession.”

“Wait wait wait,” Yamaguchi chimes in. “I’ve got a good one.” He affects a gruff voice. “Tsukishima Kei. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since you blocked me two years ago. You have bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Shut up,” Kei hisses at the same time as Yamaguchi dissolves into giggles. “I told you that in confidence.”

“Was that—was that supposed to be Ushiwaka?” Yachi gasps in between pearls of laughter. She’s wiping tears from her eyes.

“You’re both terrible,” Kei tells them. It goes ignored.

Yamaguchi turns to Yachi once they’ve calmed down enough. He leans in, a twinkle in his eyes and stage whispers, “Tsukki had a bit of a crush on him in middle school. It was—”

“Shut up,” Kei cuts him off again.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, completely unbothered.

“Wait, I have another one,” Yachi pipes up. She schools her features into something more severe, drifting between a frown and a pout. “You really can fly.”

His mind catches a flash of blue eyes. Calloused hands holding his, wrapping tape around his knuckles. A smug grin.

Kei’s traitorous cheeks heat up before he can control himself. He does his best to avert his face, but it’s too late. 

Yachi is gasping, “Oh my —” 

Yamaguchi is bursting into laughter again. 

“Number three it is,” he says, sounding far too delighted.

“Just ask the next question,” Kei grumbles. His cheeks are burning.

By the end of the afternoon, Kei’s stolen paper has filled up with various doodles of Kageyama next to the initial cats. He stares at one of the little Kageyamas for a moment, thinking about adding a crown. After a moment’s hesitation, he adds cat ears instead.

He crumbles the paper and throws it away before anyone else can see.

✧✧✧

They all get the invitation at the same time, sent via the old Karasuno group chat, although Kei is pretty sure he is the only one who receives a second message right after. This one private but threatening him bodily harm if he doesn’t show up to his favourite senpai’s goodbye party.

He sends Nishinoya a thumbs up, then exits the chat, ignoring the incoming string of outraged messages.

There’s another waiting for him.

King

are u coming

How generous of Kageyama to stab Kei in the chest.

Kei

yes

are you?

King

yes

:)

How generous of him to twist the knife.

✧✧✧

Kei’s standing a way’s off from the bonfire outside in the garden, far away enough to numb the deafening noise Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Hinata produce together. 

He’s staring at the stars when he asks, “Doesn't it make you sad?”

“Mh?" 

Somebody has given Kageyama a beer, when they shouldn’t. Nobody could have foreseen that the King would be a lightweight, but here he is, swaying on his feet, cheeks flushed. His eyes are bright, even in the dark of the night. It’s a good look on him.

“Looking at the stars. Doesn't it make you sad?” Kei elaborates.

“Why would that make me sad?”

He shrugs, face still tilted towards the sky. “Because all you're doing is looking at the past.”

“What's that supposed to mean? You can't just—I'm not smart like you—you can't just say stuff like that without explaining." Kageyama’s not slurring his words, not yet, but he speaks with a sluggish lilt that strings them together like pearls on a necklace.

Kei finally lowers his gaze to look at him. He’s— Kei’s at a loss for words. 

Scowling, under the moonlight, Kageyama is everything.

Finally remembering the question, Kei scoffs. “As my king commands.” 

It comes out fond. 

He doesn’t get to explain the long arduous journey of light to Kageyama, cut off by a pair of lips before he can even start.

The kiss lingers, melts time into something sticky sweet that drags with their touch. There are fingers cradling his jaw, feather light touches until their mouths drop open and then they turn bruising.

Almost like Kageyama knows what’s about to happen.

Kei lets himself sink into the sensation for a moment longer, wants to cherish it and burn it into his memory.

Wants to run.

“I like you,” Kageyama says when they separate. His eyes are big and bright and Kei is drowning in them.

I like you too, Kei thinks.

“I have to go,” he says.

“What do you mean ‘you have to go’?” Kageyama’s voice sharpens with every word, rising in anger.

Kei glares at him, barbed defences at the ready. “I mean what I mean.”

“That doesn't make any sense. Why can’t you just say—”

“It means—”

“—what you mean instead, like normal people?”

“—that I—would you let me speak ? ”

Kageyama huffs, but stays quiet. 

“It means that I have to go.”

He doesn’t meet Kageyama’s eyes. He’s already choking on plein air, those ocean eyes will only make it worse.

“Fuck you,” Kageyama spits. The words stumble out of his mouth ungracefully. By his side, his hands curl into white-knuckled fists. 

“I like you,” he says again. The final nail in the coffin.

Kei releases a soft wounded breath, punched from his chest. He aches. “King, you can't just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I mean it.”

Kei doesn’t reply. He has to go.

✧✧✧

“You never talk about the things that bother you,” Yamaguchi says.

“I know,” Kei replies.

“Usually I don’t care about that. I mean, I care, sure but I can also count on you to figure things out on your own, or that you will come to me when you need me.” Yamaguchi pauses, glancing at Kei with a look that lingers too long. It cuts deep. “I’m not so sure this time.”

Kei says nothing.

“How’s the sleep?”

Kei shrugs. “Better. I got four uninterrupted hours today.”

He meets Yamaguchi’s eyes for a moment. Says, “I’ll be okay.”

Yamaguchi holds his gaze. Then he nods. “Okay.”

✧✧✧

King

asshole

Kei

I know

I missed you on your morning run today

King

slept in

don't go anywhere

and stop fucking sleeping on playgrounds

✧✧✧

“You can’t just keep calling yourself an asshole and think that that’s an excuse. Maybe just stop being an asshole instead,” Kageyama announces himself, feet crunching against the gravel.

Kei pulls himself upright. Lungs finally free to breath without ropes pressing into them.

The sky is bright blue already, the sun white and yellow and warm.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Kageyama glares at him, so Kei continues. 

“I like you too.”

Kageyama’s face cracks into a smile. Smug at the corners.

“I know,” he says, finally sitting down next to Kei.

The swing jostles with the impact, swaying a little. 

Kei falls into Kageyama’s side.

“I don’t like to talk.”

Kageyama frowns. “You talk plenty with me.”

Kei sighs. “I know. That’s the point. You make me want to talk. I’m scared of the things you’ll make me say.”

Kageyama scoffs. “That’s stupid. I’m not making you say anything. Just don’t say it then.”

“That’s not—” He gives up, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

They sit together in silence for a moment, just breathing together. In and out.

“I like when you talk to me,” Kageyama says quietly.

“Okay,” says Kei. “I like talking to you too.”

“I know. That’s why you never shut up.”

✧✧✧

Kei

it can take the light years to reach the earth depending on the distance

that’s why we’re looking at the past when we’re looking at the stars

or the sun

every time you look at the sun that image is eight minutes old

Kei

also please don’t stare at the sun

you’ll damage your eyes

King

you always talk about the sun and the stars

why not the moon

Kei

don't know

maybe I don't like the moon

Kei’s sitting in his grandmother’s garden, reading one of the manga he brought with him, when his phone vibrates next to him.

King

I like the moon