Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now that nationals were over, coach Washijō had started directing most of his efforts towards the second and first years, without a doubt already preparing for next year’s Interhigh. The third years, all of them still attending practice for various reasons, were now mostly used as an opposing team in practice matches.

Of course, Goshiki wasted no opportunities to ask his admired senpai for advice. He had all but ran up to Ushijima the second he'd entered the gym, bombarding their starplayer with as much questions as his mind could come up with.

Tendou popped up behind the ace, just in time to watch the first year scurry off, and let out a low whistle, “Wowie, mister popular, soon enough you will have to start slapping the fans off of you”. Ushijima turned to his teammate, stoïc as ever. “I wouldn’t hurt someone, you shouldn’t either.”

“Are you ever not serious, Wakatoshi?”, the sentence was spoken with an astonishing amount of endearment. Tendou, for example, was just here to have a little more fun. Teasing his teammates was one of his most favourite endeavours after all. Humming a cheerful tune, the redhead sauntered off to go and grab his own volleyball.

As practice proceeded, Tendou found himself at the sideline next to Semi. He pouted, bending over backwards, before letting out a dramatic sigh.

“I’m feeling awfully neglected.”

Good thing he was great at entertaining himself and others of course. He slung an arm around the other in question’s shoulder with new vigour.

“Sooo, Semi-Semi pooh, any big plans for your future huh?”.

Semi pushed Tendou’s arm off of him with a dissatisfied grunt, “Don’t talk to me and stop with the Semi-Semi crap already!”.

The redhead cocked his head sideways, not discouraged in the slightest. After a short moment of contemplation, his lips curled into the iconic Cheshire grin that never failed to make their opponents shudder.

“It’s not like we have anything to do while the children practice their spikes.” A long pale limb swung towards the court before them as per means of illustration.

The third years had been asked to sit this one out, so the sole focus could be on Shiratorizawa’s brand new line-up, currently spiking away on the court. That is per exception of starplayer Ushijima Wakatoshi of course. No one in their right mind would keep that powerhouse off the field.

Coach Washijō himself was absent at the moment, taking an important phone call so it seemed. So there was no one to keep Tendou in line.

“Go annoy someone else”, Semi huffed. Why couldn’t this guy ever leave him alone?

“But you’re one of my favourites”, was the sugar sweet response immediately thrown back at him. Tendou beamed, Semi frowned. The redhead never seemed to skip a beat, almost as if he knew what you were going to say before the words even formed in your mouth. It was creepy as hell.

“Tsssk, idiot!” Done with this conversation, Semi stomped away from him.

“Semi-semi pooh, don’t be embarrassed, you’re cute when you’re all shy.” Tendou’s singsong voice ran all over the court, trailing after him. Semi quickened his pace, Tendou, all long-limbed grace, followed effortlessly.

Oblivious to the fuming setter, the redhead didn't ease his chatter. That's it. Semi halted mid step, spinning around to face the most infuriating person on the planet and fully intending to give him a piece of his mind.

The words however, died in his throat, as he was just in time to see a ball crash right into the side of Tendou’s face. One second, he was staring at those round eyes, slightly widened in surprise at his sudden stop. The next, he could only watch frozen as the redhead himself crashed to the floor in a heap off limbs, his head landing with a dull thud.

That’s what you get for messing around all the time, Semi wasn't exactly proud of that first thought filling his smug mind.

A handful of people near them had paused after witnessing Tendou’s quite ungraceful drop to the floor. With most of them being used to his weird antics, no one immediately made a move to go and help him or see if he was alright.

Most younger years agreed that he was about as hard to approach and intimidating as Ushijima, albeit in another way. After all, you never knew what the eccentric redhead was going to do.

Tendou still wasn’t getting up though, even after a few seconds off lying motionless on the floor. Semi too, was convinced without a doubt that his infuriating teammate was creating a drama again, solely for his own sheer enjoyment.

A low groan echoed across the gym as red spiky hair finally popped up again.

“Well that hurt.” Tendou blinked the stars out of his eyes.

“Do you always have to be so dramatic?”, the disapprove in Semi’s voice was clear. Although, if you listened a little closer, some slight notes of relief just might have been discernible as well.

“You’re no fun, Semi-Semi.” Acting as if everything was right as rain, Tendou jumped back to his feet... and Semi got his first good look at the other's face. Well shit.

“Oh”, the surprised sound left Tendou's lips as he watched deep red liquid drip onto his hands.

“Your mouth is bleeding, are you-“, but for the second time that day, Semi’s words died in his throat as Tendou’s body swayed dangerously.

Black spots were dancing across his vision. Somewhere in the back of his mind Tendou realised that that couldn't be a particularly good sign. He tried to hold onto something to steady himself, but his hands came up empty, and then his head was empty as well.

“Fuck”, the curse left Semi’s mouth involuntary, watching his teammate crumple to the floor for the second time around. His senses dulled as he failed to reach the redhead in time.

Time seemed to slow and then suddenly, someone was running past him. It took him only a second to recognise Ushijima’s familiar broad shoulders and cropped hair. Watching the ace lean over Tendou finally snapped him out of his own stupor, and he too found himself joining their teammate’s side.

“What happened?” Semi hadn't even realised that Reon was beside him until he spoke up. Where had he come from?

The setter started talking before he could even think his words through. “A ball hit him in the side of his face, he was awake, he got up, it didn’t seem too bad.”

Tendou had seemed fine, he was acting like his usual perky self, but then... “But when we realised his mouth was bleeding, he just... collapsed.”

That wasn’t panic in Semi’s voice, was it? Tendou’s face did seem paler than usual, a stark contrast to his red hair and the blood pooling at the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin.

Reon handed Ushijima a sweat shirt, the latter placing it under Tendou’s head carefully. He’d never seen the ace acting so gentle before, even brushing a vibrant red strand of hair out of his face.

“Yo, is he okay?” Yamagata joined their little huddle on the floor, the other players still wearily keeping their distance.

“Shit, he’s actually unconscious?” No one bothered to answer him, it was quite obvious looking at the redhead’s relaxed face. He seemed almost asleep, were it not for the big red mark covering his cheek and jaw and the blood marks. That would definitely leave a bruise.

Ushijima checked his vitals. His usually monotone voice had a slight edge of unease in it when he announced that Tendou's breathing was stable. Well, at least he wasn't dead.

“He might have gotten up too quickly, I’m not sure. The idiot immediately jumped back to his feet." Semi didn’t enjoy the slight ache spreading through his chest, easily recognisable as guilt. After all, he had been the one who all but implied Tendou was making a fuss over nothing. He should have checked more carefully if his teammate was alright.

Behind them the muttering and hushed whispers of the rest of the team could be heard, wondering what was going on, but none of them daring to approach. Tendou still hadn't budged.

When Ushijima was just about to put him in the recovery position, his brows scrunched up.

It took a few seconds, but then the redhead lazily blinked his eyes open and... found himself face to face with their ace leaning over him, uncomfortably close might he add, his stare unwavering.

“Woa big boy”, he coughed, blinking a few times. He wasn't still dreaming, was he? “I appreciate the overbearingness and all, but...” He trailed off as his is eyes jumped from Reon, to Semi, and then to Yamagata, also at his side, though at a more respectable distance. Ushijima didn’t seem to care about social norms though or personal space for that matter.

Not to mention all of them were looking at him like he might spontaneously combust any second now.

“What’s going on?”, and why is his face aching so much?

He tried to right himself, but multiple voices called out for him to “STAY DOWN!" "Don't move!" "How much of an idiot are you?!”. Additionally, two firm hands put a soft pressure on his shoulders, keeping him down. Well then... He couldn't help but wince as the noises rung through his head, seemingly vibrating across his skull.

Ah that’s right, he'd had a quite unfortunate encounter with a volleyball.

When his head calmed down enough after a few seconds, he spoke up. “I’m fine, just a little spin off the head, nothing yer miracle boy can’t handle.” he points his thumb at himself for extra effect, waving the hands around him away.

It was obviously not the first time Tendou got a volleyball to the face. Evading the ones his teammates deliberately aimed at him when he was younger had been his first reason to start guess blocking.

As he got the hang of it, it quickly became a fun little game of revenge. His opponents' exasperated faces spurring him on in his sadistic enjoyment.

But Tendou must admit, this particular spike had been much stronger than those of his former "teammates".

Righting himself a bit more and at the same time having the others back off a little, he placed his feet on the floor with conviction. However, his legs immediately folded under him like accordions as he "attempted" to push himself off.

His balance appeared to be off by a mile.

Instead of going down a third time however, he finds himself securely cradled against Ushijima Wakatoshi’s iron chest. Definitely wasn't expecting that today. Good thing the ace had remained hovering close, as he was now a quite handy support in keeping Tendou upright.

“You absolute idiot! Stay down will ya!”

Semi’s insults aren’t laced with the usual annoyance and lack of patience. This time his voice resonated with agitated worry and a slight tinge of frustration. Unfortunately, Tendou was to occupied by his pounding head to notice it.

“Whoops, seems like someone replaced my legs with jello. I bet it was you Semi-semi.”

Humour was a coping mechanism after all and Tendou wasn't going to let any opportunity to tease his teammates pass. The joy Semi's aggravated face brought, did wonders to soothe him.

Like an owner would his pet, he pats Ushijima’s chest affectionally. Rewarding him with a beaming smile that made his jaw ache even more. “Thanks Wakatoshi, always steady and reliable, aren’t ya?”.

Ushijima’s warmth was seeping into his exposed skin, and Tendou wouldn't be lying if he said it was quite comfortable.

Now that he was up and standing, he could also see that everyone in the gym had stopped their activities to gawk at them. Had he forgotten today was his birthday or something? What else could he have done to deserve all this attention? Tendou would be able to enjoy it some more if his face wasn’t aching so much.

“You’re hurt”, poor, socially unaware Ushijima was stating the obvious.

“Here”, Reon handed him what seemed to be a tissue. “Your mouth is bleeding”, he explained at the redhead's raised brow.

“Oh my, thank you, thank you, I feel so cared for.” A warm feeling spread through his chest. It did feel nice, knowing his teammates and unofficial friends did mind him getting hurt.

He did his best to blindly and messily wipe away the blood, using his tongue to tentatively prob at the responsible wound inside his mouth. His teeth must have ripped his cheek open and it stung unpleasantly. He was also very much aware of all the eyes closely following his actions. If this continued some more he would really start to feel like a celebrity.

The squeak of sports shoes on gym floors broke the short lived silence.

“SENPAI, I’m so sorry! I... I didn’t mean to!”

Tendou cringed at the sharp yelling, worsening the pounding in his head. It seemed the culprit had been found.

“Goshiki, stop yelling, will you? His head must be hurting.”

Shirabu’s voice joined the cacophony of sounds around him and Tendou’s head felt like it was about to scatter to pieces. He turned his face around, trying to hide away from the noise in Ushijima’s rock solid chest.

“Now, now, quiet down children”, his strained voice muffled against the cotton of the captain's shirt.

A hand appeared on his forehead, slightly warm, very comforting. Tendou opened his eyes into slits, lifting his head enough to, once again, meet Ushijima’s unmoving stare.

Olive eyes looked straight into his, as if trying to uncover his every secret. It was making Tendou feel oddly vulnerable, though not in a particularly unpleasant way. As dizzy as he might have been at that moment, those eyes were enough to steady anyone.

Goshiki hadn't meant to hit him, he felt horrified watching his tall, invincible, cheery senpai thud to the floor. He couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His relief watching Tendou get up easily was only short-lived when the redhead went down for the second time. Had he... had he just killed someone?

He had just all but lost the feeling in his fingers, being on the verge of bursting into tears, when Shirabu had snapped him out of it. Seeing the redhead with his eyes open, breathing, talking and even smiling, Goshiki's body had started moving on his own. Suddendly he'd found himself sprinting towards the other side of the gym, Shirabu going after him with a drained sigh and what might have been an eye-roll.

“Are you alright, Tendou?"

With the effort of a thousand suns, Tendou managed to turn his head in time to see coach Saitō approaching them as well. He sure felt popular today, getting hit in the face certainly wasn't as unattractive as it used to be.

As Ushijima made no move to let go of him, Tendou saw no problem in enjoying the comfort of his arms for a little while longer. He leaned back slightly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be lounging in the ace's embrace. "Yes, I-", before he could even answer properly, the ace in question butted in.

“I’ll take him to the infirmary.”

He wasted no time wrapping Tendou’s arm around his shoulder, and placing his own arm securely around the redhead’s waist, still supporting him but now in a more walkable position. In mere seconds Tendou found himself snuggly pressed against Ushijima's side. Quick and efficient, as expected of the number one ace in the Miyagi Prefecture.

The coach nodded in agreement. “Yes, that might be for the best. Thank you, Ushijima. Will you two be able to manage alone?”

After confirming they’d be fine, the pair made their way out of the gym, the order to “take it easy” ringing out behind them. Tendou gave his teammates a wave as he let Ushijima lead him away.

Yamagata spoke up just as the door closed behind them. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Tendou? He’ll be fine, I’d be more concerned if he wasn’t able to joke around like that.” Shirabu didn’t seem too worried. Reon hummed in agreement, “Yeah, he did seem like his usual self. Just... more blood”.

“And physical contact”, Shirabu added with a pensive expression on his face. “Honestly, I’m more concerned about Ushijima.”

“What?! What do you mean?” Goshiki was starting to panic again, why would Shirabu say such a thing? The ace hadn't seemed injured.

“Didn’t any of you see?”

Shirabu sighed as he was met with the blank, confused faces of his teammates.

“The second Ushijima realised Tendou had dropped down, he ran, ran over here. He usually has quite an expressionless face, but I’m pretty sure he was concerned just now. Not to mention his refusal to let go of Tendou." He setter pointedly adds. "He was holding onto him like that guy might have just shattered if he didn't.”

Now that Shirabu mentioned it, Semi had noticed Ushijima’s uncanny gentleness in handling Tendou. Could there be... He stopped himself. None of my business, absolutely none of my business.

For only a second longer he stared at the door the odd duo had just disappeared through, before sauntering off shaking his head. In fact I don't even want to know. He just hoped that weirdo would be okay. After all, he might be a pain to have around, but still, Semi figured it would probably be kinda quiet if he wasn't there.

Still highly aware of the ball of nerves next to him, Yamagata slapped a comforting hand on Goshiki's shoulder. “Don’t worry Goshiki, Tendou will be fine, and he’s not one to get angry about this sort of thing, it was an accident.”

“Yes. Right!” The first year’s body tensed, as he straightened himself. Yamagata half expected him to salute. Shaking his head, he too walked off, briefly contemplating if he should have mentioned something about the first years bangs as Tendou often did. That did seem to cheer him up most of the time.

Coach Washijō chose that moment to re-enter the gym, immediately yelling at all the remaining players to stop pottering around and get back to practice, effectively making Goshiki and Shirabu scurry back into position as well.

Meanwhile the unassuming pair was making their way towards the nurse’s office.

Not being able to help himself, Tendou leaned into Ushjima’s shoulder smiling teasingly. “This is great service you’re offering, Wakatoshi”.

“I’m glad I'm able to help”, was the simple reply he got in return. Silence surrounded them once more, none of them compelled to break it. Tendou was more than content having his weight supported by Ushijima's sturdy built.

They make it a couple of meters before he has to stop them, clutching his head with one hand. “Just a second, miracle boy, my head’s spinning”.

“You’re dizzy, I can carry you.” Tendou wasn’t even going to try stopping the laughter bubbling from his mouth.

The sole idea of THE Ushijima Wakatoshi carrying him through the school hallways, like he was some kind of damsel in distress, was too much of a visual to bear. Especially imagining him shirtless, like on the cover of those lewd books his mother liked to read. The same strong jaw and expressionless face, eyes focused straight ahead of him, like he was doing right now.

“Did I say something humorous?” Ushijima’s brows pinched together in concern, “you might have a concussion”. Tendou was close to tears now, “You’re hilarious Wakatoshi-kun, I didn’t think you had it in you”.

Ushijima must have thought he was really losing it, because he suddenly found himself actually lifted in the arms of their highly valued starplayer.

It should have been more awkward, given their only small height difference, but instead Tendou found himself being cradled comfortably. It was almost... nice, being close taken care of like this.

“You better be careful Ushiwaka, I might just get used to this.”

“I don’t mind if you do”, was his immediate, monotone answer. Normally Tendou's flirty tone would at least elicit some slight flustering, but Ushijima (in true Ushijima fashion) didn't waver.

“My ears must have been hit as well”, the redhead joked.

“I don’t mind carrying you, so it’s no problem if you get used to it”, as if his previous words needed any clarification.

Carrying the tall middle blocker didn't even make him break a sweat, his breathing steady, his pace brisk, but his hold stable. Ushijima really was a beast, a gentle one though, at least when he wasn't on the volleyball field.

Tendou trailed his fingers over the arm currently cradling him, “These are valuable arms, you shouldn’t lend them out so easily”.

Still he was going to enjoy ever second, leaning his head back against Ushijima’s shoulder and closing his eyes until the nausea passed. Those harsh TL-lights were definitely doing a number on him, better to rest for a second and enjoy the ride.

They made it to the nurse’s office without any further incidents and much to Tendou’s surprise Ushijima stayed throughout his whole check-up, not budging from his spot by the wall. Also not averting his hawklike stare. Tendou suspected it was the cause of the nurse's slightly stumbling actions.

The damage ended up being nothing more than a small concussion. With plenty of rest he should (figuratively and literally) be back on his feet in no time. As the nurse finished up and left to go get him some painkillers for his headache, Ushijima approached him once more.

“Don’t get hit again."

Tendou almost choked on his laugh at the order thrown at him, Ushijima of course was a 100% serious.

“I myself don’t particularly enjoy getting hit in the face, so I’ll see what I can do." He weakly pokes Ushijima in the stomach from his position on the exam table.

“You should be more careful." Were Tendou's ears deceiving him or was that some concern he detected in his voice. Ushijima, who usually behaved almost robotically, was showing a lot of emotions today. Later, when his head wasn't killing him, Tendou would take the time to contemplate all of that. It was pretty thrilling after all.

"I didn't purposely jump in front of that ball, Wakatoshi."

"It is important to stay alert around a volleyball field", was the textbook answer thrown back at him.

"It's not only my fault ya know, I'm not the one who actually spiked that ball straight to my face." Tendou was having the time of his life batting his eyelashes at the ace.

Poor Ushijima, of course didn't catch on to his teasing, sarcastic tone and seriously retributed, "I'll educate Goshiki on the dangers of cross-shots." He nodded to himself with the seriousness of a father about to have a word with his child.

Once again, Tendou found himself cackling, Ushiwaka really was on fire today. Still, did this guy ever relax just a little? It was almost endearing.

"He might just faint if you talk to him like that", he managed to wheeze out. Ushijima looked at him puzzled, the gears in his head almost visibly turning. Scratch that, it was endearing. "You should take a sufficient amount of rest, Satori. You're the only one who lost consciousness."

Yeah, Ushijima was definitely still convinced something was wrong with his head, oh well.

His chest was a more pressing concern at the moment. Tendou's heart always made an involuntary little dance hearing his name come out of the ace's mouth.

The redhead had been quick to declare them best friends, happily calling Ushijima by his first name, without any need for permission. Noticing this, the ace had sincerely asked him if, "I should call you by your first name too, then?".

Tendou's reply had been instant, leaning into the ace like a cat seeking affection.

"That's right Wakatoshi-kun, that's what best friends do."

"I see."

Ever since then Tendou had been Satori to him and he very much enjoyed it that way.

"You didn't have to stay, ya know", Tendou perked up at him. "I mean don't get me wrong", he swung his feet, currently dangling from the exam table, narrowly avoiding kicking Ushijima. They ace hadn't moved a muscle. "I'm very grateful for the lift, with the whole: 'spinny head thing', but I'd imagine the volleyball field is calling for you".

Tendou carefully chose his words, since Ushijima had a little trouble understanding his often colourful wordplays and metaphors, correctly that is.

"I wanted to stay."

Ushijima frowns at the wall behind him, "I don't like seeing you hurt".

Out of all the unexpected things that had happened today, those words coming out of Wakatoshi-I barely blink, let alone feel- Ushijima's mouth, might have just been the most jaw-dropping.

Tendou is unfamiliar with the feelings his words evoke in him, although he's quick to hide his surprise behind a witty retort.

"Well congratulations Wakatoshi-kun, the feeling you're experiencing right now is called empathy, which means you're an actual human being instead of a machine. I'm honoured that I was the one to bring it out of you. It almost makes that ball to the face worth it".

But Ushijima doesn't smile, not that Tendou had expected him too, his deadpan stare unrelenting, olive eyes unwavering. He was being so typically Ushijima, while at the same time not being like Ushijima at all. It was horribly confusing, as if there were two different people behind the curtain, pulling his strings at the same time.

“Are you worried about me?” He leaned forward, voice dripping with his usual playfulness, though hiding underlying curiosity.

In true Ushijima fashion however, he didn’t skip a beat as he plainly answered, “Yes”.

Oh...

That is...

Well...

Tendou looked at the tall, strong, intimidating, seemingly unshakable, but also simple and all too often oblivious ace in front of him and found himself wondering if those eyes had always had that uncharacteristic warmth in them, when staring right back at him.

Not much happened after that, although it very much felt like it. Like his world had permanently shifted, just a slight little bit, barely noticeable, but still.

Ushijima silently walked him back to the dorms, after announcing Tendou wasn't going alone and he was coming with. Not that the patient in question put up much of a fight. He did however insist on using his own two feet to get there.

Tendou craned his sore head back, pausing to look at the bright sky and sighed. Ah, what a strange day this was.

He looked at the ace walking a few steps ahead of him and quickened his own pace to catch up, his pounding face all but forgotten.

It might not be such a bad one though. Not if THE Ushijima Wakatoshi had just all but admitted he cared for him. Tendou wouldn’t mind if that same Ushijima kept looking at him like that, like he mattered... a whole lot... to him.

That might just make him feel a little bit wonderful.

Chapter Text

Kenma was tired. To be honest, there weren’t many days when he wasn’t. But today he was straight up exhausted, physically drained and with absolutely zero patience for any of the shenanigans his teammates usually threw at him.

His current state wasn’t to blame on anyone else but himself though. He was aware pulling all-nighters playing games wasn’t exactly healthy, as Kuroo often reminded him, but it had been morning before he knew it. In the end he had defeated the final boss though, right as the sun came up, so it had been worth it.

Kuroo didn’t comment on his appearance and apparent lack of sleep, walking beside him quietly. His greeting that morning had consisted of a knowing glance paired with a sigh.

Kenma was grateful, he wasn’t in the mood for one of Kuroo’s 'lectures'. It’s not like he enjoyed disappointing him and of course Kenma knew his best friend meant well, but just... not right now, not today. Not when his skull felt like it was about to split and gravity seemed to pull his body down even more so than usual.

All he wanted was to drag himself through the day as quickly as possible, return home to his unused bed and sleep.

Kuroo’s eyes scrutinized Kenma when the pair eventually halted before his classroom door.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Kenma’s mutter was barely intelligible, but Kuroo had heard him, his ears long since conditioned to his mumbling friend.

“You look tired.”

Kenma sighed, he should have known better. Kuroo never let him of the hook, not when his health was concerned. Annoying as it often was, Kuroo did care for him. Sometimes more resembling a mother coddling a child, rather than friends looking out for one another.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”, there it was.

“I’ll be fine Kuroo", Kenma dismissed the concern.

Saying he wasn’t in the mood for this conversation right now, would be a major understatement. He was overstimulated as it was. The light hurting his already burning eyes, his limbs feeling too heavy, the pressure against his skull a constant reminder of his lack of sleep, even the slightest noise making it worse.

Everything was annoying and infuriating and too much, and he hated it.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Unfortunately for him, Kuroo, used to Kenma’s evasion, wasn’t one to back off.

“The answer won’t change the fact that I need to get through this day”, the annoyance in Kenma’s voice was crystal clear. Apart from sleep, he also severely lacked patience today.

Kuroo frowned, opening his mouth to no doubt interject and lecture Kenma some more, but the school bell conveniently interrupted their conversation. Without another word Kenma made his way inside.

“I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” Kuroo'd preferred a verbal confirmation, but only got a slight shrug in response. He shook his head at his stubborn friend’s retreating back, before he too quickly made his way to class.

-

Kenma sighed for what seemed like the millionth time in the span of only a few hours. This day appeared to only be getting worse and worse. Three separate teachers had called on him, his classmates seemed even louder and more boisterous than usual, and the game Kenma had brought with him to distract himself had run out of battery halfway through second period. It was just the worst, to put it plainly.

By the time Kenma made it to lunch, he was more than ready to throw in the towel. Cursing the sunlight hurting his eyes, the stairs under his dragging feet and basically anything else that crossed his path, he finally managed to make it up the roof, waiting for Kuroo at their usual spot.

Kenma hated the loud chaos that was known as lunch, too many voices, people, yells, laughter. The overcrowded courtyard was one of his worst nightmares. It hadn’t taken much for Kuroo to notice his unease and they had been having lunch on the roof ever since.

A few minutes had passed when his phone pinged with a message, interrupting the game he was currently playing on the same device.

It was Kuroo, of course. There weren’t many other people who would bother to text him.

He opened the message, his eyes automatically sliding over Kuroo’s contact picture. The ravenhead had caught Kenma of guard, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull them together closely. Kuroo had snapped the picture at the exact second Kenma was looking up at him from his game, he himself smiling brightly.

-Sorry, I’m running late-
-Something came up with my classmates-
-Kenma?-
-Don’t ignore me to play games-
-And you better be eating when I get there-
-KENMA!-
-Kenmaaaaaaaaaa-
-...-

Kuroo could be awfully childish when he wanted to, occasionally nagging Kenma for attention, snatching his game away, or just simply annoying him into a reaction. That stupid crooked grin always on his face as Kenma’s aggravated eyes finally found his.

Kenma knew for a fact Kuroo would keep bothering him until he got an answer or at least some proof of life.

-Fine-

The plain reply should be enough to satisfy him. Kenma didn’t have the energy for anything else.

He figured he should take out his food, the thought of Kuroo’s (well-meant, but still) nagging, enough to pick up a rice ball. His appetite was non-existent though. Still, the setter nibbled on his food while he waited, trying to play some games on his phone, but having trouble concentrating. He found himself having to blink back droopy eyelids more and more often.

If he closed his eyes now, he might just fall asleep. Actually, that possibility was getting more likely by the second. However, Kenma also knew that giving in right now would only cause him more hassle in the long run. So, with a dejected sigh, he forcefully kept his eyes open.

Twenty minutes in and Kuroo still hadn’t shown. There hadn’t been any more messages either.

Kenma blinked at the gravel under his shoes. At times like this he couldn't help but wonder if Kuroo wouldn’t rather eat lunch with the others. He was about as extroverted as one could get, well maybe not Shoyo level extroverted, but Kenma didn’t think many people would go as far as the ginger ball of energy.

The point is, Kuroo enjoyed being around people, more people than Kenma could often handle at a time. He was always stuck here with Kenma, who was often quietly playing games, not even minding Kuroo all that much. For someone like Kuroo that wasn’t enjoyable, was it? Did Kenma isolate him? What if Kuroo started to resent him for it?

Well, whatever. Kenma buried his face into his knees, shielding himself from the rest of the world. If Kuroo didn’t want to be here, he didn’t have to, it wasn’t like Kenma forced him to be there.

Maybe his classmates had begged him to stay for lunch, or maybe he was eating with the other volleyball guys. Whatever it was, Kenma was just fine on his own. The ruckus bellow him was only a soft undiscernible murmur up here. He was far away from everything, just the way he wanted.

So Kenma was fine on his own, even when Kuroo had been by his side for most of his life. Even when Kenma had long since grown accustomed to it. Even when he might just prefer the other’s presence over being alone.

The bell rang, announcing the end of lunch period, just as the door to the roof burst open. Kuroo was out of breath, his hair even more disheveled than usual.

“Kenma, sorry, I-“, hazel eyes almost immediately zeroed in on the barely half eaten onigiri in Kenma’s hand. “I told you to eat”, the displeasure in Kuroo’s voice was clear. His words accompanied by a matching frown.

Kenma packed his stuff, avoiding the other’s gaze, mentally preparing himself for the hours ahead of him, “I did”.

The setter was just about to squeeze past his friend, when a hold on his wrist caused him to freeze. It wasn’t a painful grip, but a secure one nonetheless, effectively trapping Kenma in place.

His body always went slightly warm wherever Kuroo touched him, today being no exception. Kenma had long since stopped questioning these peculiar reactions only Kuroo ever seemed to evoke in him.

“I need to get to class Kuroo”, but his hold didn’t budge, instead he leaned closer to Kenma, analysing his face intently. For what he was looking, the setter didn’t know. He wouldn’t dare guess either.

Panic, violently unexpected, started spreading through his body.

“Are you mad? I’m really sorry I didn’t make it in time, there was a-“. But Kenma stopped him. Because the more Kuroo spoke, the more Kenma became convinced he might just do something incredibly stupid, like start yelling or crying or both, for no real reason at all.

Suddenly he was terrified, he couldn’t face Kuroo a second longer, couldn’t bear another word, emotion clogging his throat. He wanted to hide, hide away from everything.

He dropped his eyes, keeping them strictly trained to the ground. Fortunately, his voice didn’t betray his inner turmoil when he interjected, sounding almost perfectly indifferent. “It’s fine”, and it was fine. It was only one lunch break Kenma’d had to spend alone. It was no big deal. So he didn’t need to be stupid about it.

Defeated, Kuroo let go off him and Kenma hurried down the steps, returning to class alone. The ravenhead had a bad feeling, watching his friend’s hunched shoulders and bowed head leaving him for the second time that day.

When the end of the school day finally, FINALLY, rolled around, Kenma contemplated just not going to practice. The idea of sweaty gym floors and running around seemed even less appealing than usual today. Skipping was a much more attractive alternative.

Unfortunately for him though, he’d encountered Lev on his way out and the overenthusiastic Russian had wasted no time dragging “KENMA-SAN!” along with him to practice, effectively taking his choice away. So, despite his obvious displeasure, the half blonde found himself exactly where he didn’t want to be.

It was probably for the better though. Kenma knew Kuroo’d be disappointed, not to mention worried when he wouldn’t show. Besides, they had a practice match against Karasuno in a week, which meant they should be sharpening their skills as much as they could. Kenma could survive a couple of hours more. He sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to it though.

Since both their coaches had a prior engagement, it was just the team today, meaning their captain was fully in charge and too busy reprimanding Lev to notice Kenma entering. That is, until the half-blond was already on the other side of the gym. Kuroo’s eyes following the two-colored head with a frown.

Unluckily for Kenma, Kuroo wasn’t one to go easy on his teammates. The setter already regretted his decision to stay when their captain called out for them to begin their reps.

He'd made it half an hour into practice when his next unfortune was presented to him.

“What’s up with you today, Kenma? Use those legs, will you!”

Kenma could only frown at Yamamoto’s annoying yelling. How long till he could go home? He rubbed his forehead, his headache had only worsened throughout the day.

“Kenma-san, why are you going so slow? You’re moving like snail or something.” Of course Lev chose that moment to pop up behind Kenma, genuine confusion on his face. Yamamoto slapped their silver haired teammate on the shoulder, laughing heartedly. “Right? If he were going any slower, he’d be moving backwards.”

“It surprises me that Kuroo hasn’t said anything yet.” Yamamoto clearly hadn’t realised that the grumbling setter was even less in the mood for his jabbing than usual today. Lev whined next to them, “Kuroo-san always points me out, so unfair”.

“He usually isn’t that soft on Kenma either.” Genuinely seeming puzzled, the ace rubbed his chin.

“Kuroo isn’t soft on me.” The setter in question scrunched up his face, wishing they’d leave him alone already. Between the two of them, he was starting to feel overcrowded.

Seemingly oblivious to the setter’s unease, Yamamoto leaned down right into his face. “Maybe if Kuroo stopped acting like your mother, you’d actually make an effort.”

It was meant as a joke, Yamamoto didn’t have any real vile intent, and somewhere deep down, Kenma did know this, but the taunt still hit him straight where it hurt.

He knew that he got special treatment on the team, even when Kuroo always fully denied it. He knew it wasn’t normal for his best friend basically having to babysit and motivate him all the time. He knew it must be a pain, and the fear that Kuroo would just be tired of it one day and up and left Kenma all alone, rang deep. Deeper than he’d ever dare to admit.

“Hey, knock it off you two.”

Speak of the devil.

Kuroo’s voice rang loud and clear, calling out the two players currently circling their smaller setter.

That look on Kenma’s face just now, he hadn’t liked that at all.

Yamamoto turned around to face his captain. “We were only teasing Kenma a little, it’s no big-“ “If you have that much time on your hands, maybe I should give both of you some extra drills, huh?”

The threat was all it took for both of them to scurry off quickly, muttering an apology. They had first hand experience knowing how scary their captain and his ‘extra drills’ could be.

Now alone, Kuroo’s eyes softened as they dropped down to Kenma’s. “Are you okay?”

Kuroo was always so nice and caring to him, that was exactly the problem. Kenma turned his face away with a jerk, effectively breaking the eye contact. “I’m fine.” His voice was cold and closed off, fully apathetic. He wanted to go home.

“Kitten-“

“I said I’m fine! you don’t need to baby me all the time Kuroo. Stop being embarrassing and just leave me alone!”

The hand reaching out to him stopped midair and dropped down at his sudden outburst. Kuroo swallowed, “all right then, let me know when you’re done lying to me”.

Kenma inwardly flinched at how distant and bitter Kuroo’s voice sounded. He had clearly hurt him. He was a bad friend, wasn’t he? Ungrateful and undeserving of Kuroo’s care.

As if that wasn't enough, the stupid over-exhaustion overclouding his mind was making everything feel a million times worse.

With nothing more to say, Kuroo walked off and Kenma found himself alone once again, not nearly as relieved as he thought he’d be.

Soon enough the team divided into two, Kenma finding himself facing Kuroo on the other side of the court. Dread swirled in his stomach, it was time for some practice matches.

-

Today was just getting worse and worse , Kuroo thought, following Kenma with his eyes, not focusing on the game nearly as much as he should.

He always had eyes on Kenma whenever he was in Kuroo's vicinity. It was a habit established a long time ago. The sight of the familiar two-colored head normally serving as a comfort to him, but not today.

The setter looked like a zombie, dragging his body around. It wasn’t the first time Kuroo had seen him so sleep deprived. It was, however, the first time his friend had stubbornly resigned himself to play despite his clearly lacking physical state.

Kuroo knew Kenma was sensitive about how people regarded Kuroo taking care of him. And if he’d heard correctly, it was exactly that, that Yamamoto had been teasing him about. Nonetheless, being an idiot and playing when he was clearly exhausted was not only stupid but also dangerous. It wasn’t like Kenma at all.

Usually at this point, he would be begging Kuroo to sit practice out, complaining about the exhaustion wearing him down. By now he should be refusing to walk another step. In contrast, he hadn’t complained even once today, despite Kuroo having tried giving him plenty of chances to do so. Well, apart from standing him up at lunch that is.

Kuroo did feel guilty about that, especially knowing that Kenma barely ate when there was no one watching him do it. He’d have never thought that taking his classmate to the nurse’s office would take so long. When Kuroo had finally made it up the roof, Kenma wasn’t even playing his usual game. He was getting beyond concerned at that point.

Leaving Kenma to his own devices at lunch, today out of all days, had been an obvious mistake. Now, he was clearly past the point of exhausted and Kuroo contemplated just sending him home.

Nonetheless, Kenma was also the most stubborn person Kuroo knew. He wasn’t going to back off, not when he’d made up his mind. And right now, he seemed determined to prove something. Kuroo was getting progressively more apprehensive of how much farther he’d take it.

Others would probably call him overprotective. He was, in fact, aware the way he cared for Kenma wasn’t normal for just friends .

p>More than that, he was okay with it. He had long since admitted to himself that he loved Kenma, in every sense, romantic and all.

He accepted it, even when he might never actually act on it. He’d always feared his affections would only scare Kenma away and he’d rather be yearning for Kenma while being by his side, than risk not having him at all.

So Kuroo simply cared deeply for him, be it as a friend or something more. As annoyed as it made the half-blond, looking after him had become second nature to Kuroo, something he greatly enjoyed. He prided himself in being one of the very few Kenma let in and actually allowed to come close.

The setter’s mind was a marvelous, intricate, analytic, complex thing and, despite their one-year age difference, Kuroo often felt like Kenma was light years ahead of him. He wondered when his genius friend would realize this as well and would ultimately leave Kuroo behind.

Right now though, he seemed content enough staying by his side, despite his often-grumpy and endearing nature.

Kuroo also knew better than most, how hard living in this world was for a mind like Kenma’s. Anxiety often overtaking him, social interactions a horrible chore. The world around him frequently too bustling and loud, overstimulating him.

Unsurprisingly, the idea of joining the volleyball team hadn’t thrilled him at all. And still, Kenma had done it. He’d stayed, despite that meaning having to face everything he hated, on the daily at that. He’d stayed for Kuroo, because Kuroo’d asked him to, because Kuroo’d said they needed him.

It was one of the many reason the ravenhead couldn’t help but love him.

In the meantime, Kenma was now huffing at the sky, looking in utter agony, making Kuroo wonder if he was cursing out gravity again. He should really stop the game and send Kenma home. The latter would probably complain about it being embarrassing and how Kuroo was babying him again, but in the end, did that matter?

Did that really matter, when Kenma’s face was getting paler and paler by the second and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes were making him look almost skeleton-like. Kuroo needed to do something, or this wasn’t going to end well.

-

Kenma wasn’t doing great. The court had started to spin around him a few minutes ago, and his steps were getting wobblier by the second. He barely made it to the ball anymore, his fingers were clammy and he was distinctly aware that he was letting his team down. But, no doubt at least partly aware of his current state of mind, none of them commented on his pathetic plays. The unsubtle looks cast at him were getting increasingly worried though.

Then the inevitable happened as Kenma stumbled and then tripped over his own feet.

He sighed, the world around him slowing down as he fell over with the floor steadily nearing. He went to brace himself to at least keep his head from smashing into the floor, only to find that his arms didn’t seem to be cooperating any longer.

Worse still, his entire body wouldn’t move anymore, the piled-up exhaustion no doubt finally overtaking it.

Before he knew it, Kenma faceplanted straight to the floor, his limp body landing with a thud. He didn’t fight to keep his eyes open. On the contrary. Finally , he thought just as everything went black, finally he could get some rest.

Kuroo’s heart must have actually stopped for a second, watching Kenma’s small body going down on the other side of the court. He was already moving before most of his teammates had even fully registered what happened, all but sliding under the net in his haste to get to Kenma.

When he reached the setter’s side, his heart was beating out of his chest. Kenma looked like a doll, with his off-white skin, and lifeless body. It was a downright scary sight and Kuroo didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it.

What if he’s dead? The terrifying thought ran through his mind with the force of a hurricane, leaving his fingers numb and his ears ringing.

No, stop it, focus, help him.

Nonetheless, the first thing he did was lean down to check Kenma’s breathing and pulse. Both stable, thank God, but pretty faint and slow.

By now his teammates had caught up to what happened. Chaos ensued as the majority tried making their way towards them. The gym filling with sound as everyone started talking over each other at the same time.

Unfortunately for Kenma, he wasn’t entirely unconscious. Which meant that, albeit vaguely, he was still aware of the noises around him. More specifically, the variety of voices resulting in an undiscernible muddle. One voice sounded clear above all others though, first panicked and urgent, “Kenma!”, and then a softer, “Kenma?”.

The voice was close, warm too.

His body was gently rolled around, with careful hands placing him on his back.

Kenma should open his eyes, shouldn’t he? If he stayed like this for too long, Kuroo might call an ambulance or something. His voice sounded worried.

Kenma tried to blink his eyes open, he really did, but his heavy eyelids and the harsh lights shining down on him immediately discouraged the action. Sleep was so close, all he had to do was give in to it.

Just for a little while. Just for-

“Kenma? Kenma, are you awake? Can you open your eyes for me? Please.” The desperation in Kuroo’s voice managed to clear up his fuzzy mind slightly. He couldn’t go to sleep right now, Kuroo needed him.

With a low groan and great effort, he squeezed his eyes open once again. Kuroo’s worried face only inches from his.

“Kenma? Can you hear me?”

“Yes Kuroo, there’s nothing wrong with my ears.” He forced out the reply, his voice sounding hoarse.

He was getting increasingly more aware of the state his body was currently in. Great, now he could add a pounding head and an aching face to his increasing list of ailments. Not to mention the other bruises that he had likely acquired all over his body.

This day definitely couldn’t get any worse.

He was, once again proven wrong, as an ungodly sound thundered through the gym.

“KENMA-SAN, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! YOU JUST FELL DOWN LIKE A-“

“Shut it, Lev, you’re being too loud", Yaku interjected.

Luckily, he was there almost immediately to physically block off the noise. Kenma had never felt more grateful for their efficient and thoughtful libero.

The Russian in question blinked at his smaller teammate, his voice muffled by the hand on his mouth. How the third year had even managed to reach, was a marvel on its own.

Without breaking his hold, Yaku turned to look at their bruised setter, his gaze softening. “Sorry for the noise Kenma, are you alright?”

“I’m fine”, he rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, all but breathing out the words.

Now that he was slowly coming back to his senses, the pounding in his head, right where his face had hit the floor, was only getting worse. He was also becoming increasingly more aware of the stares burning into him. His skin crawling with the uncomfortable sensation the unwanted attention evoked.

Kenma tried to right himself slightly, fully intending to get out of there as soon as possible. Only a second later, Kuroo’s secure arms were around him, helping him into a sitting position. His hands always capable and careful, especially when Kenma was concerned. Suddenly, gasps were ringing out around him once again. Lev letting out a horrified, still muffled “Kenma-san!”.

The setter fought the urge to groan, what was all the ruckus about now? Before he knew it, Kuroo was already tilting his head forward, pinching his nose, his own brows scrunched together in unease.

Kenma sputtered, trying to squirm out of his hold, “What the-Kuroo, what are you doing?”.

“Kenma, don’t move so much, your nose is bleeding.”

Oh... Gross.Blood was just unpleasant overall, the smell, the taste, the look and especially the feel of it. Not to mention the fact that it stained.

Realizing that the ruckus around them probably wasn’t helping Kenma at all, Kai was quick to calmy usher most of the players away. “Give them some space guys”, he said. Most of the players complied, sauntering off, still accompanied by their hushed whispers.

In the end, only Yaku and Kuroo remained by his side. The latter still firmly holding onto Kenma’s nose.

“I’m fine now, Kuroo.”

His nasal voice didn’t sound too convincing though, even to his own ears. Still, after a second more of kuroo’s scrutinizing gaze and with Yaku’s accord, he slowly let go of him.

Yaku exhaled in relief. “The bleeding seems to have stopped. You should probably still see a doctor though, just to be sure.” Kuroo nodded in agreement, neither of them stopping to check Kenma’s thoughts on the matter. It was a done deal, so it seemed.

“No.”

That wasn’t happening. Kenma’s mind was made up, his tone final, he wasn’t going to a doctor. Or any kind of medical personnel for that matter.

“I was only bleeding because I fell on my face, I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

Kuroo pleaded with him, trying to ease Kenma as he so often did. “Kenma, it won’t take long and I’ll go with you.”

“It was just a nosebleed, I don’t need a doctor”, Kenma stubbornly insisted. He felt like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, but he didn’t care. He was at the end of his rope and he WASN’T going to a stupid doctor.

“Kenma”, Yaku’s voice was gentle when he leaned down next to him, as if speaking to an easily frightened child. He wasn't exactly wrong in his assessment. “It’s better to get checked out, just to be safe. You had quite the fall. Right, Kuroo?”.

The libero was well aware that, if Kuroo pushed this, Kenma’d have no choice but to go. The setter himself knew this too. He looked at Kuroo, his eyes begging him not to. He was past the point of desperate, he just wanted to go home.

Kenma hated doctors. The feel of silicone gloves on his skin, the probing, the questions, the medical procedures, the smell. He shuddered. The idea of having to face that right now was actually making him sick.

Kuroo frowned at him, of course he knew how much Kenma hated going to the doctor. Even getting him to the dentist for a yearly check-up was a hassle. The half-blond would probably just succumb to disease if he had the choice.

He sighed for what seemed like the thousand time today, now pinching the bridge of his own nose. He realized that Kenma probably wasn't sick per se, most of his worrisome behavior stemming from lack of sleep. The fall had been pretty bad, but he didn't seem to have a concussion. If Kuroo kept an eye on him himself, it might just be okay.

Besides, taking Kenma to a doctor right now, would very likely make everything even worse.

“Fine, we can’t force you to go." He hoped he wouldn’t regret this, like most of the decisions he’d made today.

Kenma exhaled in relief, thankful for the small mercy lend upon him. The displeasure on Yaku’s face on the other hand was obvious, but he didn’t voice it.

“Okay then”, after making sure Kenma was stable, Kuroo straightened himself. He clapped his hands together to catch everyone’s attention, before addressing the gym in its entirety. “That’s it for training for today, I’m taking this one home. If everyone could please get started on clean-up.”

Inuoka spoke up instantly, “Is Kenma alright?”. Concern was evident on his face as he tried to pear at the setter still on the ground, currently hidden behind Kuroo’s tall form. “He will be fine”, Kuroo assured him, “he just needs some rest”.

Kenma had remained silent, just sitting on the floor, occasionally closing his eyes. It only offered a slight relief to the pressure in his head, but it was better than nothing. Yaku had ran off not too long ago, having said something Kenma hadn’t registered. It was pretty clear though, that he was meant to stay there and wait. He was aware of the team moving around him to clear out the gym, but his eyes were firmly trained on Kuroo’s back.

He watched in a daze as Kuroo, only a few steps away from him, exchanged some words with Kai. The latter nodding and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Kuroo had most likely made sure the rest of the team would be fine clearing the gym, so he could get Kenma home.

Kuroo was always thinking of others, was always acting with them on his mind, he was a considerate person like that.

Yaku kneeled beside him once again, as the conversation reached its end. Kuroo made his way over, at the same time the libero handed him a wipe of some sorts. “Your face is all bloody”, he explained. It was snatched away before Kenma could even lift his hand.

Kuroo looked at his pale friend, a streak of red going down his face, his cat like eyes staring back at him blankly. Then his eyes dropped to the setter’s hand, Kenma sloppily made a fist to keep it from shaking.

Willing himself to bite back the frustration simmering inside him, Kuroo clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not like you can see where the blood is.” His words came out more like an accusation than anything else and Yaku’s brows raised in surprise. Kuroo acting like that, to Kenma of all people, was unexpected to say the least. Something definitely happened, if the sharp tension around them was anything to go by.

Kuroo didn’t look at either of them, making quick work of wiping as much of that despicable red color of off Kenma’s skin as possible. But he was still highly conscious of Yaku’s eyes bouncing from him to Kenma, trying to decipher what exactly was going on.

Kuroo was annoyed, mostly at himself for letting it get this far, but Kenma didn’t know that. All his control seemed to be slipping from his fingers, he felt like crying, Kuroo’s harsh tone hitting much harder than it should, echoing through his hollow mind, until it was the only thing he could still focus on.

Kuroo could tease him relentlessly and often gave Kenma a push when he decided it was needed, but always in good nature and with a gentle undertone. And although his quote unquote unhealthy habits often displeased him, Kuroo had never made Kenma feel like a burden. But right now, he seemed audibly annoyed with him and it hurt.

The half-blond curled into himself slightly, his head bowing down as if on reflex. Strong fingers were there immediately to tip his chin up. “Don’t turn away from me”, Kuroo bristled. His gentle actions not matching his tone of voice.

“Stay still for a second, hold on to me when you feel dizzy", he continued.

When Kuroo was statisfied with his work, him and Yaku slowly helped Kenma up. A never-ending stream of questions rained down on him: “Can you stand?” “Are you dizzy?” “Do you feel nauseous?” “Follow my finger for a second.” “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?” “Are you hurt anywhere else?” “What day is it?” “Do you need some ice?”.

Kenma didn’t need anything, he wanted to go home and forget this day ever happened. Scratch that, at this point he wanted to forget he existed. He was already dreading having to face his teammates again and he hadn’t even left the building yet. Not to mention... Kuroo.

“Thanks Yaku, I think I got it from here.” The libero nodded, though still eyeing them with some suspicion. “Be careful.”

Without exchanging a word with him, Kuroo wrapped his arm securely around Kenma’s waist, supporting his full body weight. The setter had no choice but to lift the arm squeezed between them, all but curling it around Kuroo’s neck. It made the hold a little less awkward to walk, but also brought them that much closer together. Kenma felt like a rag doll, essentially hanging there.

He had been close like this with Kuroo before, of course he had. Sleepovers still consisted of them sharing the same bed, Kenma all too often ending up curled into his best friend’s chest. The latter, without fail, holding onto him as if he were a stuffed animal.

Touch came natural to them. Be it Kuroo pulling Kenma into a side hug, running his fingers through strands of wispy blond hair or resting his head on the crown of the other’s head to get a better look at the game he was currently playing, or be it Kenma sitting cradled comfortably between his best friend’s legs, eyes focused on his game, holding onto Kuroo’s jacket to prevent getting lost or leaning his head against the other’s shoulder for support.

At the sudden thought of all those seemingly innocent, daily touches, Kenma’s face started to burn. But he was too numb, too bruised, too tired, to do something about it. He just let Kuroo, trustworthy, caring, always there, Kuroo, lead him away towards the gym doors.

Yamamoto’s gaze was trained to the floor as the duo passed him by, mentally kicking himself for going too far. It hadn’t been like Kenma at all to wear himself out like that. He had never seen the setter go to such extremes, not even during real games and this was just practice. He should definitely apologize to Kenma, but if the intense look on Kuroo’s face was anything to go by, now was clearly not the time.

The second they reached the locker room, Kuroo made quick work of helping Kenma out of his clothes. He didn’t even give Kenma a chance to protest, he was taking over now.

“Lift your arms for me.”

The setter shivered as warm hands touched his cold, clammy skin. The action was making him feel even smaller and more vulnerable than he already was. They had been alone like this countless of times before. I mean they changed next to each other every day without reservations. It hadn’t even been that long since they’d stop taking baths together, so this shouldn't feel as intimate as it did.

His gym shirt was placed on the bench beside him before he even knew it, replaced by the button-down from his uniform and closely followed by a big, warm hoody engulfing his body. His hands getting swallowed up by the black sleeves.

That hoody wasn’t his, although Kenma easily recognized it. They were together all the time after all, it would be near impossible to not notice the clothes Kuroo often wore.

Even if he hadn’t, the comforting smell now surrounding Kenma would be enough to give it away. He buried himself deeper into the collar as if on instinct, softly inhaling. It was an effective distraction, he hadn’t even realized Kuroo had already helped him into his track suit bottoms on top of his gym shorts until it was already done.

Kuroo guided him down on the bench, kneeling in front of Kenma to put on his shoes.

“I can do that-“

“I’m doing it”. Kuroo’s voice left no room for argument, as he focused on getting Kenma’s feet inside his shoes.

“If you think, even for a second, that you might have a concussion, I’m taking you to a doctor.” He tied Kenma’s shoelaces with more vigor than necessary. Kenma sighed, leaning his head back slightly until it rested against the wall behind him.

“We both know I’m just tired, Kuroo”, his voice was faint, soft, and severely lacking energy. Kuroo didn’t relent, continuing on as if he hadn’t heard him, “and I’m telling your parents about this”.

Kenma bit his tongue, not objecting outwardly, but fully intending on making sure Kuroo was out of his house before he would have a chance to talk to them. His parents never took kindly to his nightly endeavours. Them taking away his games again would be the real nightmare.

Kuroo righted himself, pinning Kenma with a stern look, quite resembling a mother addressing her unruly child. “Sit there for a second. Don’t move.”. It took him all but a minute to change himself, before he was kneeling before Kenma once more.

He placed a hand on the setter’s forehead, simultaneously brushing his hair away. A slight ache went through Kenma’s chest at the other’s still very much concerned eyes and set mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Try again.”

Kenma exhaled. “My head is pounding and my body is aching”, he admitted.

Kuroo nodded, better satisfied with the more truthful answer. He had easily noticed the beginnings of some nasty bruises on Kenma’s shoulder and knee earlier. The purple and blue hues they’d undoubtedly take on, would stand out even more on his pale skin. It was no wonder his body felt the aftermath of that blow. The sound of Kenma hitting the floor was still echoing distinctly through his own mind.

When Kuroo remained silent, Kenma spoke up, fearing the other was thinking about sending him to a doctor again. “I just need to sleep, Kuroo.”

If you know that so well, why didn’t you sleep last night then? Kuroo held himself back. Now was not the time. Besides, he knew saying something like that would be no help to Kenma at all.

Because it was never really a matter of why Kenma did it. He was more than intelligent enough to realize this wasn’t good for him. The half-blond clearly didn’t enjoy being a wreck, but he had trouble regulating himself, shutting of his mind and caring enough about the consequences his actions would have on his body.

That’s what Kuroo was for, that’s what Kuroo gladly did for him, as long as he could make sure Kenma was alright and cared for. But for him to do that, Kenma had to talk to him, Kenma had to allow his help, and right now, he was doing anything but.

Meanwhile, having Kuroo all up in his face, without even the protection of his hair was making Kenma more nervous by the second. The direct eye contact wasn’t helping, but Kuroo hadn’t budged.

“Kuroo?” Tentatively the setter raised his hand, pulling Kuroo’s own, still resting on his forehead, down. The loss of contact revealed his own slightly flushed cheeks and forehead.

“Maybe I should call someone to come get-“

“Please don’t make this a big deal.”

Kuroo gave him a look that said it very much was a big deal already. Did Kenma have any idea how ridiculous he sounded?

Focusing on a spot on the wall, Kenma fiddled with the too big sleeves. “I can go home like we usually do.” He hated direct confrontation. What he wouldn’t give right now for a game in his hands to distract himself. Just anything to focus on really, other than Kuroo’s very conscious presence and watchful eyes.

At last, the other in question pulled back from him, righting himself. “Can you walk?”

Kenma mumbled a “yeah”, dropping his gaze in relief. “Okay then”, the ravenhead wasted no time stuffing the rest of their clothes in their gym bags, slinging both of them over his shoulder.

“I can carry my own bag.” Kenma made a move to get up, his body very much protesting said action. But he stood his ground, annoyed at his own incapability and oh so exhausted by everything.

“Just let me do this Kenma, you can barely keep your own body upright. I’d very much appreciate it, if we could prevent another fall-down.” Kuroo was tired as well, tired of this day, tired of seeing Kenma like this, tired of his own annoyance, his patience so thin it could shatter any second now.

There was this underlying tension between them, the uncomfortable feeling of things unsaid, the slightest misstep enough to make everything blow to pieces. Kenma hated it. He knew Kuroo must, without a doubt, be annoyed with him and he didn’t know how to stop it. He only seemed to succeed in making matters worse.

The setter felt like crap, inside and out.

It would be so much easier if Kuroo’d just walk away, leave Kenma to fend for his own and save himself the frustration. That didn't sound anything like him though, he'd never do that.

Kuroo guided him out, fingers wrapped around his wrist, exactly like on the roof earlier today. That felt like an eternity ago now.

“I promise I can walk Kuroo”, but the hold firmly remained.

Kuroo always adjusted his pace to Kenma’s slower one. It seemed like such a small meaningless thing, but it was a comfort after a lifetime of either being left behind or having to hurry after classmates or family members.

It was something easily overlooked by others, but not Kuroo. When it came to Kenma, Kuroo rarely missed a thing. His pace was even slower than usual today, making sure Kenma wasn’t exerting himself in the slightest.

“You don’t have to hold onto me”, Kenma tried again.

“It’s this or I’m carrying you, those are your options.” Kenma huffed slightly, but didn’t say another word.

They walked in silence for a few minutes when Kuroo audibly exhaled, bracing himself to speak. “Kenma....”, he started, “why would you do something like this?”

I can’t do this... not today, not right now. Kenma squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, unpleasantly aware of his own heartbeat.

“Kenma?”

“I was just playing volleyball.”

“You were overworking yourself.”

“The others do that all the time.” Kenma thought about Shoyo, who kept jumping until his legs quite literally wouldn’t move anymore, Akaashi, who was always overthinking everything, Yamamoto, who would keep yelling and spiking with just as much vigor no matter how long the game had been going for, Yaku, who stayed on the field until he was physically unable to stand up by himself, Kuroo, who always hid any worries behind a confident smirk and sharp eyes.

Kuroo, who never gave up on teaching even the most hopeless cases.

Kuroo, who stayed optimistic, no matter how impossible their situation seemed.

All his team had ever wanted was for Kenma to put a little more effort in, wasn’t it? Sure, today of all days hadn’t exactly been the right moment to make their wishes come true, but still.

“Why can’t I?”

...

A thousand things had been swimming through Kuroo’s mind from the second Kenma had fallen down. There were so many things he wanted to say, he didn’t even know where or how to begin.

But with those words, those words Kenma just said so offhandedly, the tension around them exploded.

“Why would you want to kenma?!” The last of his control had snapped away and he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

“You barely even LIKE volleyball, so why go that far? It was just a practice, a stupid, unimportant practice, that made NO DIFFERENCE! Why, today of all days, did you feel the need to do that?!”

Because Kenma wanted to show Kuroo that he could make an effort, wanted to make him proud for once or at least prevent him from getting disappointed in him again. And today, because his emotions were all over the place and he couldn’t think straight, because stupid insecurities were eating him up inside, because he didn’t want to be a weight on Kuroo’s shoulders, because he wanted to show Kuroo that he was alright on his own, that he could do it, that he wasn’t some kid needing supervision all the time. Because he was scared to lose him!

Because apparently the only way to stay close to Kuroo was to push him away.

At least that’s what his 'genius' mind had come up with. It couldn’t have gone more horribly wrong.

Kenma had never felt so small and useless and stupid.

White hot anger overtook Kuroo. Anger that kenma, smart and insightful Kenma, didn’t even realise how much he was all but destroying himself. He knew he wasn't being fair, but the words of frustration flew out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through.

He should have stopped them.

The realisation came a second too late.

“Would it kill you to admit that you need help!? I’m sorry Kuroo I messed up! Actually, I might faint any second now, can you please take me home? To be entirely honest, cause apparently being best friends since primary school doesn’t exempt you from lies, I haven’t slept a wink last night, and I’ve been feeling like crap all day because of it. Also I’ve barely eaten anything today and felt the need to go and exhaust myself some more, because apparently I HATE FUNCTIONING LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING!”

Kuroo was breathing heavily at this point, his words agitated and quick, but he didn’t stop there.

He should have though.

“Is that really so hard, to just care about your own health for one damn second?! But no, you have to be a stubborn brat, for no reason at all! Do you have any idea how worried I was seeing you drop down like that?!”

“You weren’t opening your eyes Kenma, you might as well...” The words got stuck in his throat, he couldn’t speak them.

“Do you even realize how serious this is?”

“I ... I.”

The words were getting stuck in kenma’s throat, his skin felt numb. Kuroo’d never yelled at him like this and tears of shock started to fill his eyes, no matter how badly he tried to stop them.

It had been a long, scary day, and Kuroo’s capacity to stay calm had left him the second Kenma’s body had hit the floor. Since then, it had only been a matter of time before the dam broke.

“Don’t scare me like that Kenma”, Kuroo’s voice had an almost desperate edge to it. “You know you can tell me anything. You know I would listen to you. You know I’d do anything to help you.”

Kenma did know that, that’s why he was feeling so guilty after all. He only ever succeeded in making Kuroo more worried. Couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole?

Kuroo was more emotionally stable than most, the majority of things didn’t really get to him as he brushed over them quite easily.

And yet, Kenma had managed to upset him. He had upset the only person in the world who took care of him without complaint, without judgment. Even worse, Kuroo was so outright angry at him that he’d just yelled at Kenma in the middle of the street. The setter curled into himself, feeling every bit like the bad guy.

He almost let out a laugh. If he’d thought this day had started bad, this ending was a million times worse. Nothing was going right today.

Kenma’s world felt like it was crumbling down around him and still they kept walking as minutes of silence ticked by. Kuroo’s secure hold on his wrist hadn’t budged. Kenma didn’t dare look at his face, but he imagined his jaw was set in frustration. Frustration directed at him.

Incoming tears kept burning his eyes, making the ground under him turn blurry. The lack of sleep and his mess of emotions was making him oversensitive to everything .

He hated it.

He hated his stupid eyes that kept watering, he hated the warm fingers on his skin, he hated his head that hadn’t stopped pounding for one damn second, he hated today, he hated himself.

Kenma barely registered when they came to a stop at the station. Kuroo exhaled, slowly, then turned to him once again. Kenma kept his eyes downcast, focusing all his attention on a speck of dirt on the floor. He couldn’t face him, he couldn’t-

“Listen Kenma, I-...Are you crying?”

“No.” He hadn’t meant to sound so defensive, but his voice came out all wobbly and small... Hurt. His red rimmed, watery eyes remained strictly trained on the ground.

“I made you cry?” The emotion heavy in Kuroo’s words was hard to place, disbelief maybe? Some guilt? Alarm? Or even horror? “Fuck. Fuck, I’m getting all of this wrong.”

And then, before Kenma had even consciously registered those words, warm arms were cradling him, a hand at the back of his head gently guiding him to Kuroo’s chest. The action was so affectionate and unexpected, tears almost immediately started to flow freely from Kenma’s eyes.

“I’m sorry Kitten, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” That’s right, Kuroo shouldn’t have. “I just... I was so concerned, I never want to see you like that again, motionless on the floor. For a second I thought...” Once again, he didn’t finish his sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, please don’t cry.” That, of course just made him sniffle harder. “You’re angry.” The words were half muffled against Kuroo’s chest, as he stroked the back of Kenma’s head.

“I’m not mad kitten, I’m not mad at you. I’d never be mad at you, I promise.” Kuroo’s voice was so soothing and kind and Kenma couldn’t stop crying. His best friend held him through all of it, until his sobbing eventually calmed down and their next train arrived. They were silent as they sat down, Kenma with puffy eyes and kuroo with a damp spot on his shirt, but nearly all of the earlier tension had disappeared.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright taking the train?” Kenma nodded, head tucked safely against Kuroo’s side. It looked more like a head nuzzle than a nod, but that was okay, kuroo got it loud and clear. “If you start feeling worse, tell me, okay?” Kenma nodded again as the train started moving.

It took him a moment to build up the courage to speak again. “Kuroo?” His voice was soft, tentative, almost a whisper, but Kuroo had no trouble hearing him.

Kenma wasn’t very easy to read, unless your name was Kuroo Tetsuro, that is. Closed off like he currently was, you could never be too sure about what he was thinking.

“Yes, kitten?” The ravenhead had the tendency to call him that when they were alone. Kuroo'd always had an odd fondness for the nickname and it had become another habit they’d fallen into. Kenma sometimes corrected him when he was especially annoyed, but right now, he didn’t feel like doing so. He was going to hold on tightly to any comfort he could get. Besides, he had been full-on sobbing, clung to Kuroo, only moments earlier. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed right now.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” There, he’d said it.

Kuroo didn’t answer at first, just pulled him closer into his side. Kenma let him without protest. “And for being a bother”, he muttered in the other’s shirt. Safe, familiar, calming, that’s what Kuroo was.

“You’re not a bother, Kenma. Not to me, not to anyone.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hey, are you listening to me? you’re not a bother.”

“Am too.”

“Are not.”

“It’s fine Kuroo, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.” Kenma looked up at him with slightly narrowed eyes, “I’m not that stupid.”

“You’re also not a bother.”

“I-“

“We aren’t talking about this anymore, not right now.”

Kenma frowned in frustration, righting himself slightly. “You can’t jus-“ A finger was placed against his lips, effectively taking the words from his mouth. “Hush.”

He was just contemplating biting down on the finger currently against his lips, when Kuroo added, in a much more gentle, almost affectionate tone: “Get some rest, Kitten”.

The hypnotising lull of the train was tempting, but Kenma, although certainly drowsy, stayed awake for the rest of the ride. It was as if his head was stuffed with cotton wool, everything felt so conveniently far away now.

Kuroo took him all the way home, not stopping at the front door, but taking him straight to his bedroom. He entered Kenma’s house casually, like he had done countless times before.

It was time to take proper care of his kitten now.

He was, of course, very familiar with Kenma’s room, so he wasted no time handing him some pj's from his closet. “Change into this, okay? Do you need any help?” Kenma gave him a blank face, silently telling him that he was, in fact, able to change himself.

“Okay then, I’ll be right back. Call me if you need me, okay?” Kenma didn’t react, so Kuroo didn’t move from his spot by the door. He could be stubborn too and he wasn’t leaving until he got a verbal confirmation.

“Kenma, I mean it.” The setter turned around, clutching the clothes in his hands. “It's not like you're going far”, he muttered.

“Kenma.”

Kuroo didn’t have a doubt in his mind that the half-blond was rolling his eyes at him, but in the end he relented. “I will call you if something happens.” “Thank you.” That wasn’t so hard, was it? Kuroo wisely let the words die on his tongue, knowing now wasn’t the time to tease.

The second they’d entered his house, Kenma had felt like a weight had disappeared from his shoulders.

He was secretly glad Kuroo hadn’t immediately left. The other didn’t seem angry anymore and Kenma basked in the ease of a familiar environment, a familiar routine, familiar interactions and the Kuroo he was used to. His familiar Kuroo.

On the surface at least, they felt strangely normal again and Kenma was relieved.

After a short trip to the kitchen and a quick sweep of the cupboards and fridge to look for some food, Kuroo returned upstairs. Kenma was wearing the pj’s now, sitting on his bed. And Kuroo.... Kuroo was maybe a little bit too delighted upon seeing that he was also still wearing his hoody over it.

That had definitely been a flutter in his chest just now, he wouldn’t deny it. Kenma looked so unbelievably adorable in his clothes swallowing him up, not that Kuroo could tell him so. He could only imagine how Kenma’d react to that.

“Here, you need to eat something before you go to bed.” He took out the Purin and accompanying spoon he’d acquired in the kitchen, sitting down beside him. Kenma had always preferred sweet flavors, so pudding had seemed like his best bet.

He could already start to see the telltale signs of Kenma about to decline though.

That wouldn’t do.

“It’s this or I’m making you some congee”, he quickly added. Kenma’s nose scrunched up immediately at the mention of the food. “Ew.” “Come on then.” Kuroo lifted a spoonful to his mouth and, albeit with the necessary hesitation, Kenma started taking small tentative bites.

“How is your head, do you need any painkillers?” Kuroo brushed Kenma’s hair back and frowned as he inspected his head again. He should have insisted on icing it, there’d definitely be a bruise now.

Kenma only shook his head, medicine tasted vile and got him feeling all weird in his own skin.

He was still obediently taking the spoons of pudding Kuroo gave him. The setter was perfectly capable of eating by himself, but neither of them felt the need to adress that.

“I’m done”, he announced when the cup was about halfway empty. “A few more bites Kenma, you barely had anything all day.” Kenma sighed, once again. It was getting harder and harder to convince Kuroo that he was, in fact, not a child. Still, he finished the cup, even if it was just to please him. He couldn't help glaring the whole time as he did so though.

The setter scrunched up his nose when Kuroo brushed a speck of pudding from his cheek. The ravenhead’s heart fluttered again. Adorable.

They stared at each other for a moment, face to face, Kuroo leaning over him, both their eyes unblinking. The moment broke when Kenma bowed his head and Kuroo got up to throw the empty plastic cup away.

“Now”, he announced, “time for bed”.

Kenma gladly obliged, laying down and getting under his sheets, waiting for Kuroo to take his leave.

Yet instead of doing that, Kuroo made himself comfortable on his gaming chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head. Kenma peered at him in suspicion, “I’m fine now Kuroo, you don’t have to stay to check on me.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely staying right here to make sure you sleep. Also, someone needs to keep an eye on you in case you do have a concussion, since your parents aren’t home yet.” He gave Kenma a pointed stare.

The setter's face soured, he had all but forgotten about Kuroo’s promise to talk to his parents.

A simple idea popped up in his fuzzy mind. It was a last resort, but it might just work in distracting Kuroo enough to make him forget all about his earlier commitment.

Putting his plan into motion, he scooted towards the wall a little further, then turned so his back was facing him.

Kuroo raised a brow, “is that an invitation?”

“If you’re here, you might as well join”, came mumbled from the huddle of blankets on the bed. Instead of staying to watch me like a creep, Kenma mentally added.

“you’re planning to use me as your personal heater again, aren’t you?” But even as Kuroo said those words, he was already climbing in behind him.

Not only that, he wasted no time curling an arm around Kenma’s waist and pulling him closer. Kenma didn’t say anything as he settled against Kuroo, all but snuggling into him, which was answer enough.

“Comfy?”, was whispered in his hair. Kenma’s reply consisted of a soft and content whine-like sound, right now he couldn’t resemble a sleepy kitten more even if he tried. So adorable

Not able to help himself, Kuroo started stroking Kenma’s hair, running his fingers through the longer locks as he so often did when they were cuddled up together.

“I should have taken better care of you”, the regret tumbled of his tongue before he could stop it. Kenma sighed, all but rolling his eyes. “You’re always holding yourself accountable for things that aren’t your responsibility, Kuroo.”

“You are my responsibility, your health is important to me.”

“... I can take care of myself.” He should anyway. Instead of arguing that he clearly couldn’t, today being only one example, Kuroo went with a more unexpected route.

“I want to take care of you. Just... let me have that Kenma, please?” There was an unfamiliar vulnerability in Kuroo’s voice, almost as if he was the one afraid of rejection.

Kuroo loved that Kenma, analytic, complex, reclusive, grumpy, genius Kenma needed him, that Kenma allowed himself to lean on him. Kenma, who stayed as far away from people as possible, trusted him, relied on him, let him in.

Kuroo loved all of it. He loved being Kenma’s support system, loved having Kenma near him, loved Kenma’s clingy side only ever shown to him.

He was so grateful that he could be that person for him and he would take Kenma any way the setter allowed him to.

As if that wasn’t enough, Kenma was simultaneously the most beautiful person Kuroo had ever laid eyes on. He particularly adored the half-blond's perceptive, golden, cat-like eyes, that he didn't show to just anyone, his slender fingers, quick and precise, and his surprisingly soft hair, always beckoning him to touch.

It was a well-kept secret that Kenma still used baby shampoo, since he despised the prickly sensation of soap in his eyes. His hair was kept silky smooth as a convenient side effect. Kuroo of course knew this, secrets never included him.

He inhaled, his noise filling with Kenma’s sweet scent. “Oi, Kenma?”, he whispered.

“What?” Kuroo had to bite back a smile, seeing those annoyed eyes peeking up at him.

“You know I love taking care of you, right?”

There was a long pause, only interrupted by the faint sound of cars passing by outside.

“Yeah...” Nothing else followed, but, under the blanket, the setter wiggled just a little bit closer to him. It was almost unnoticeable.

Almost.

Kenma didn’t know why Kuroo like taking care of him so much. He couldn’t even imagine what the appeal was, but he didn’t doubt the sincerity of Kuroo’s words. So one couldn't blame him for seeking the nearness of his best friend since childhood, his invaluable pillar of strength, the one who was always by his side.

Kenma was grateful for him, he really was.

He inhaled Kuroo’s surrounding scent and burrowed his fingers in his shirt. Warm, safe and soft, the Kenma that had left the house this morning, could only dream of such a paradise.

He hoped Kuroo, like he had done so many times before, understood his silent ‘thank you’. Because, although he might never actually admit it, Kenma too, loved it that Kuroo took care of him.

It didn’t matter that the majority of things had gone wrong today. As long as Kuroo was here, Kenma would be alright.

He sighed for a last time, eyes falling shut, as a kiss was pressed against his forehead. Then, in the comfort of his best friend’s arms, the sleep his body had been craving so desperately finally found him.

It was good to be home.

Chapter Text

It was mid-morning late July, as the sound of volleyballs getting smashed and squeaking gym shoes filled the Shinzen high school gymnasium. Fukurodani, Nekoma, Shinzen, Ubugawa and freshly joined Karasuno were all working hard, trying to get the most out of their summer training camp.

Fukorodani was currently facing off against Nekoma in an intense match, with both sides giving their all. It didn’t matter how many practice matches they’d already had, how many times they’d lost or won before. Every game counted just the same. Every game mattered. Every game was one they wanted to win.

Kuroo smirked from behind the net, he was enjoying the “friendly” competition their rivals provided. Lev was doing especially well today, the effort it took to sync him and Kenma up together was certainly starting to pay off.

Kenma himself on the other hand, was feeling emotions far from pleasant. He was hot, he was tired and he would much rather be playing video games in bed until the sun went down or rather, came up.

Despite all of that, he wasn’t intending on letting their opponents win. Fukorodani was always an interesting level to play and it was one he wanted to beat.

The setter's cat-like eyes were sharp as ever as they analysed everything playing-out on the court. The gears in his head turning as he strategized their next moves.

Kuroo smirked widened when he caught Kenma’s focused gaze out of the corner of his eye. Splendid, their brain was operating at his full potential. It was very much needed as well, because they'd just lost a point. 

On the other side of the court, Bokuto cheered loudly, the resulting “Hey, hey, hey!!!” thundering across the court. His impressive cross shot had just brought Fukorodani up to 20. Kuroo scowled, knowing a few too many slip ups would cost them their victory. He had been looking forward to rubbing it into Bokuto’s face when they won.

He eyed up the spiky haired captain. That owl fiend sure was on fire today, wasn’t he?

The Bokuto playing right now was the one they called the renowned fifth best ace in Japan, feared and envied all the same. And his enthusiasm was contagious, boosting the morale of their other players as well as his own.

In short, Fukorodani was on a roll, but until that ball hit the floor, the game wasn't over. Kuroo clapped his hands readying himself for the next serve. He was dead set on breaking their momentum. All they had to do... was keep the ball in play. 

The high morale on the other side of the court, didn’t keep a certain setter from ruminating their next move, their next game and their foreseeable future for that matter. There was no space for haughtiness.

Akaashi had always been a thinker after all, a busy head being his default state. Starting from his early childhood, when his mother reprimanded him for losing sleep. But she couldn’t understand it, even when he tried to explain.

There were just so many thoughts in his mind, keeping him awake, demanding his attention. Too many might be more correct. It wasn't anything close to 'a talent', but Akaashi preferred to see it as a strength or at the very least a fail-safe of sorts. It  made it easier to accept, even when it wasn’t always easy to live with.

Truthfully, Akaashi was so used to it, he couldn’t imagine any different. And his mind was focused on their current game... as it was on multitude of other things at the same time.

After all, at the end of their training camp, the Spring High representative playoffs were right around the corner and Fukorodani would most likely play Nekoma then as well. Meaning that the next few days were golden opportunities to further study their opponents game and update his knowledge on them as much as possible.

With the addition of Lev and every player’s individual improvement, Nekoma was a certain threat. Especially considering Kenma’s strength in strategizing, Kuroo’s experience as captain and the strong foundation of Yaku’s capabilities. Nekoma was like a well-oiled machine of smooth sailing teamwork.

In other words, their own team needed to be prepared for anything.

Akaashi needed to be prepared for anything. Any scenario. Any possibility. 

Then right after all of that there’d be nationals, where Japan’s best would be playing. His team was counting on him, Bokuto was counting on him, he needed to make sure they were ready.

Consider every possible route and every possible consequence, before making a decision, that’s how he did things.

That’s what worked.

Stay focused, keep Bokuto motivated, make sure the team doesn’t lose their morale, take all variables into account, optimize every factor.

So they wouldn’t lose. So they could play as many matches as possible. So they could stay together for a little while longer.

That was the plan and Akaashi would give his all to make it work. 

Of course, the setter had confidence in their team and players. They were all working hard, but it never hurt to be prepared.

After all, emo-mode could occur at any time, so he had to prevent it as much as possible and work around it when it was unpreventable. They had great, dependable players, who worked well together. Bokuto may be their star, but they could hold their own without him and if-

“One touch!”, Komi yelled as he dug up the ball only a few centimeters from hitting the floor.  

“Nice save!” Momentarily parking his train of thoughts to the back of his mind, Akaashi willed his full presence into the current game.

Focus.

His eyes followed the balls trajectory as he decided where to best position himself to set. If he was quick enough, he’d make it to the side of the court. His feet were already moving with the split-second decision.

Who to set to? His eyes flashed over the court. Bokuto, Sarukui, Konoha or- Where was...

Onaga.

He hadn’t seen him move, hadn’t realized the first-year was going for the ball as well, until he suddenly all but materialized in front of him. He should have been more attentive. From the looks of it, Onaga was so focused on the ball that he hadn’t spotted Akaashi either.

Time slowed, as a hasty succession of thoughts ran through the setter’s mind.

If he didn’t act quickly... they were going to collide.

With the current speed both of them were going injuries were unavoidable. Bruises, lacerations, internal bleeding, concussion, sprains, fractures... The possibilities were endless... and increasingly worrying.   

How to avoid? how to limit the consequences? what did he need to do? what could he do? Think!

He couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop, there was no time, no space, Onaga was right there.

A yell sounded in the background, Akaashi couldn’t make out the words, he didn’t particularly care for them either at the moment.

He just needed to... Needed to make sure that... Something... Anything...

Evade?

He tried to.

But, as if someone pulled on his emergency break and in what must have been an impulsive reaction to his own alarm, his feet stopped moving.

Or tried to anyway.

Of course, as physics had thought him, inertia didn’t work that way, the kinetic energy in his body still driving him forward.

The result was predictable.

Akaashi stumbled, he lost his footing, his body all but falling forward.  

Finally, as Onaga made a jump for the ball, their eyes met. Akaashi could do nothing but watch the other’s eyes slowly widening as the realization of their “predicament” caught up with him.

It was too late.

Neither of them could stop themselves.

Colliding with Onaga seemed to have been inevitable from the start.

Akaashi’s fingers scrambled for something to hold onto as he went down. NO! You’ll drag him down with you. His mind jumbled. What to do? How to ...

Something solid and firm collided with the side of his face, almost immediately followed by the distinct sound of a thud to the floor. His vision shifted as he lost all orientation.

His body, he realized absentmindedly. He was on the floor now, the air knocked out of him. He had been the thud to the floor.

When his eyes closed on their own, he didn’t bother opening them again.

Let’s just... stay here for a second.

-

Bokuto had been waiting on Akaashi’s set, when he watched the weird scene play out in front of him.

Huh? That was strange.

Akaashi was... stumbling and then it looked like he was actually about to fall.

Akaashi didn’t fall. He didn’t bump into people. He didn’t accidently hit others with volleyballs. Bokuto couldn’t recall a single instance of Akaashi doing anything like that, he couldn’t even imagine it, like the combination just didn’t make any sense.

Because Akaashi was careful. He was always careful, not only for himself, but for others.

He had caught, protected, pulled AND pushed Bokuto out of the way on multiple occasion, like some kind off ninja or guardian angel appearing out of nowhere.

Akaashi was meticulous, Akaashi was composed, Akaashi didn’t make mistakes. He was the caring, not the cared for.

But now he was... falling, just like that. Bokuto hadn’t realised Akaashi could do that.

A heartbeat passed, a shuddering breath, the blink of an eye. It took but a few seconds for all of it to play out.

00:01 Akaashi bumping into Onaga, the first-year in the middle of his jump.

00:02 Akaashi’s face slamming into the other’s knee.

00:03 Akaashi’s body crashing to the floor, like a puppet getting his strings cut, rolling slightly, then stilling face down.

Bokuto, on the other hand, felt like invisible hands were holding him in place.

Akaashi didn’t move. Bokuto couldn’t move.

00:04

Everything stilled, nothing happened, safe for the ball thudding to the floor on the other side of the court, the sound too loud for the silence.

00:05

The realization of what had just actually happened caught up to Bokuto’s mind.

00:06

Motion returned around him, voices came to life again, but Akaashi...  

He was just lying there, why wasn’t he moving? Why wasn’t he getting up? Was he bleeding? Did he break something? Was he unconscious? Was he like seriously hurt?

What if he couldn’t play anymore? What would they do?

 What if he couldn’t get up anymore? What would he do?

What if he couldn’t wake up anymore? They needed him. Bokuto needed him.

Without him... There couldn’t be a without him.  

Akaashi had to wake up.

Like, right. Now.  

Bokuto Koutaro would always call himself a do-er over a thinker. Action speaks louder than words and words speak louder than silence, that’s how he thought about it. He didn’t like being in his head.

But, as he stood there, looking at his setter, his friend, his... Akaashi on the floor, an endless stream of thoughts started raging through his mind, getting more horrible by the millisecond and he didn’t do anything. He was just standing there.

00:07

Bokuto didn’t breathe, his heart stopped beating, his blood ran cold.

It had only been seven seconds. It had already been seven seconds. An instant. An eternity.

He willed his body into action. Move, damnit move.

00:08

The dread caught up with him. Finally, his legs started moving.

A loud, panicked “AKAASHI!” boomed across the gym.

Eight seconds. it had taken him EIGHT seconds to rush to his setter’s side.

He had been eight seconds to late.

-

“S-senpai?”, Onaga scrambled up from the floor. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” He had only stumbled backwards after their “run-in”, barely got a bruise.

Akaashi on the other hand...

Everything happened so fast, both of them were already on the floor when what had just transpired caught up with him.

Akaashi’s face had slammed into his knee, or rather, he had kneed Akaashi in the face, didn’t he? He cringed into himself recalling the resulting thump. Their vice-captain had taken the brunt of the impact, that much was clear.

Onaga could hit himself on the head right now. He should have been more aware of his surroundings, instead of running after the ball without thinking. And when he’d spotted Akaashi, it had already been too late.

Now the setter was just lying there, still unmoving. He was breathing, right? Onaga couldn’t tell, Akaashi had rolled face down. The first-year wanted to help, but at the same time he didn’t dare approach. He feared he would only make it worse. He stood there looking at Akaashi with shaking hands and a look of apprehension on his face.

He had done that.

“AKAASHI?!” Onaga flinched back at the distinct sound of their captain’s voice. This was bad, wasn’t it?

-

At the same time, in yet another part of the gym, Tsukishima scowled at the loud scream vibrating throughout the hall, easily discernable as belonging to Fukorodani’s boisterous captain.

What was that boor yelling about now? How he managed to reach that volume alone was too ridiculous for words. He rolled his eyes and turned his face to look over. Most players in the vicinity did the same, abandoning their game, curious to see what the ruckus was about.

Oh. The blonde narrowed his eyes, seems like Fukorodani’s setter was on the floor. His eyes followed Bokuto as he rushed to their setter’s side, but then he quickly averted his gaze. With a shake of his head, the blonde turned around. What a fool, the way he was screaming you’d think he had been injured instead.

-

Shit, Kuroo winced, that looked painful and he just had a front seat witnessing all of it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in reaction to the loud booming screaming stemming from the other side of the court.

Kuroo had never heard Bokuto yell that loudly before. And this wasn’t a cheer, or an overconfident taunt, or a whine. He sounded distraught, afraid. Kuroo frowned, he sounded like-

The ice-cold fingers of dread started curling around his throat so suddenly it made Kuroo freeze in an instant. Goosebumps erupted across his skin. A sickly thump, a body sprawled on the floor, red- Something bumped into him softly, effectively shattering his train of thought.

Kuroo’s eyes crossed the golden ones staring up at him, Kenma was frowning slightly. “Kuroo?”. He swallowed. It’s fine. It’s okay. He’s fine.

“It’s nothing, I’ll go see if they’re okay”. Kenma’s eyes narrowed in the way that made clear he wasn’t buying anything he said. But Kuroo all but jogged out of there, shaking of the remaining chill.  

-

Akaashi must have really been out of it, if he hadn’t noticed Bokuto screaming his name like his life depended on it. Everything was like background static, muddled and muffled, nothing made sense and it all felt so far away.

Everything but the pounding side of his face.

He took a moment to clear his mind, straighten his thoughts. What were the things he did know? He currently found himself on the gym floor of their summer camp, he had run into Onaga and... he had smacked his face against something, rather hard with the way it felt like.

Even if he tried, he doubted if he would be able to properly open his left eye at the moment. It was probably swelling shut right now. He should get up and properly assess the damage, but his body wasn’t as inclined to muster up the courage. There were still stars dancing in front of his eyes and Akaashi would like to avoid a second tumble to the floor.

What a mess. He hoped this wouldn’t hinder their preparations for the representative playoffs in a few weeks. He should count in for a black eye, how long would that last for? Even with his head pounding distractively, Akaashi’s thoughts couldn’t help but spin into a loop again, ruminating over the consequences of his injury.

He hadn’t realized how long he had been laying motionlessly on the floor, when a slight shake to his shoulder brought him back to reality. “Akaashi, wake up.” Bokuto. His voice sounded anxious, like he was on the verge of crying... or a full-blown meltdown.

Bokuto’s weakness number 43: when distressed he will easily return to a childlike state. Priority number one is reassurance, always, make sure he doesn’t go into full panic mode. And if Akaashi’s assessment was correct they were well on their way to reach it.  

Not a good sign.

“Bokuto-san, you shouldn’t shake him.” The hand retreated as if burned, “AH SORRY, did I make it worse?!" "I’m sorry Akaashi, I didn’t mean to.” “It’s alright”, Akaashi’s voice was slightly muffled with the right side of his head plastered to the floor, but the effect was immediate.

Bokuto sucked in air right next to his head, likely leaning overbearingly close. “Bokuto, take a step back for a moment, give him some space”, his presence shifted a little and then Sarukui kneeled down next to them. “Akaashi, can you get up?”

“Yes, I think so”, it took some effort and unpleasantness, but Akaashi managed to push himself up enough to roll onto his back.   

He adjusted to the overhead lamps shining straight into his eyes, or eye. As his left one was in fact swollen shut for the most part. He raised his hand, tentatively feeling around the side of his face. He couldn’t prevent a slight hiss, when he reached the bruised part and accidentally probed it.

“Akaashi?”, the setter dropped his hand at Washio’s voice, now also beside him. “You shouldn’t touch that, we need to ice it.” He hummed in agreement, that would hopefully bring down the swelling and lessen the damage.

“You okay?” The setter turned his head slightly to properly face the third-year, “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for the concern”. He scrunched and unscrunched his brow, then opened and closed his eye, it didn’t do much to relieve the pounding. “I just need a moment”, Washio nodded in silent understanding, before retreating slightly.

A sudden thought occurred to him, “Is Onaga-“ “Akaashi?”, Bokuto was leaning over him now, blocking most of the overhead lights and filling most of his vision. His weary eyes widened as he took in Akaashi’s face. It must look pretty bad.

“I’m alright Bokuto-san”, he immediately rebutted in an attempt to reassure him. It proved to be rather unsuccessful though. “Your-YOUR EYE! You can’t see anymore! Your face is all-”

“Bokuto, quiet down, you’re yelling for the whole gym to hear”, Konoha approached them, interrupting Bokuto mid-yell, “and you aren’t helping Akaashi like this either”. “W-what?” Akaashi felt Bokuto’s pout more than he could see it, but emo-mode was preferred over panic-mode right now. The setter sighed, he needed to calm Bokuto down as soon possible.

More feet approached them, probably his other teammates. The coaches had just left of course, no doubt to prepare the “secret no longer so secret” BBQ, so they were on their own right now.

Komi also joined his side and leaned in closer to examine his face. “That looks painful, you sure you’re alright?”.  Akaashi nodded as the other helped him sit up and then handed him an ice pack. The setter took it gratefully, bringing it to the swollen side of his face. “At any rate, you can’t play like this, that’s for certain.”

Upon hearing those words, Bokuto lost three shades of color, going utterly still. “Can’t. Play?” The hands resting on Akaashi’s arm tightened.

Realizing their mistake, Sarukui quickly jumped in to ease their captain. “Komi just meant that Akaashi cannot finish this game, calm down.” But not able to help himself from butting in, Konoha had to add: “you’re acting like he’s going to die”.

That was not the right thing to say. At all.

Their captains’ eyes went wide, expression frozen on his face, mouth wide open. He looked like someone just pulled his plug out. The word echoed through his head.

Die. Die. Die.

Akashi was very often thinking with the team on his mind, he knew his teammates and he knew Bokuto, arguably better than he knew himself. That’s why he could see the panic overtaking the aces body the moment the words “die” were spoken aloud. Reassurance comes first, always.

With a grunt he tries to right himself some more, “Bokuto-san”. He gets a whimper in return, but those eyes remain unblinking. “Bokuto-san”, Akaashi tried again, more insistent this time. It was enough to snap him out of it.

The ace jumped to life, grabbing onto Akaashi’s shoulders, leaning in until there were only a few centimeters between their faces. “Akaashi, don’t die!” Were that tears in his eyes? Akaashi couldn’t tell, it wasn’t important anyway, not right now. Reassurance.

He put a hand on the ace’s arm, willing him to calm down, keeping his voice steady and firm, “Bokuto-san, I won’t die”. Bokuto looked at him as if he didn’t quite believe it, no matter how much he wanted to. Akaashi stared right back into his eyes, unwavering, patient and sincere.  

Eventually Bokuto nodded, still unconvinced as he averted his eyes. “You want to get up? Should I carry you? You might fall again, and-and you’re hurt and... I don’t want you to die.” The last part was spoken in barely a whisper, with a slight shake to his voice.

“Bokuto-san”, Akaashi looked at the ramrod straight bundle of nerves jittering in front of him with eyes full of apperception. “Breathe in”, Bokuto swallowed a huge gulp off air immediately, “and out”, his shoulders moved with the effort. “Again." "In”, the grip on his shoulders was loosening slightly, “and out". "Very good”.

His eyes were looking a little more focused now and his breathing was starting to calm down. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, as Bokuto did forget how to breathe from time to time. “Better?”. He got an almost instant nod in return. “Good.”

“Hey Akaashi, you guys okay here?” Kuroo eyed Bokuto with uncertainty as he walked up to them. The others seemed to have taken a few steps back in the face of Bokuto’s almost meltdown. There were but few people who could actually calm their captain down when he reached one of his panic modes. Akaashi was especially skilled at it and they tried to give them a little more privacy.

He looked at Bokuto when he answered, nodding slowly, “we’re fine”. “Actually, could I have some help with getting up?” His dizziness had calmed down a while ago, diminishing his chances of falling down, but he wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks.

Kuroo held out his hand, but in the end it was Bokuto who placed his hands under Akaashi’s arms and all but hoisted him onto his feet. The ace made an effort to be gentle about it though, and Akaashi didn’t exactly mind his attempted care, even if he was jerked around just a tad too harshly as far as his pounding head was concerned.

Even in this upright position, Bokuto didn’t seem intent on letting him go, holding Akaashi to his chest almost like a kid would a stuffed animal. It was kind of... adorable and very much Bokuto, diligently trying to please with a sprinkle of clumsiness.

Since the dizziness had returned slightly upon rising, Akaashi wasn’t going to decline leaning against the Ace’s steady body for a bit. Out of all the things he should be bothered with right now, Bokuto holding him up barely made the list.

From a distance, Suga grimaced as he watched the way Bokuto all but yanked Akaashi up. “Should we go help?”, he wondered out loud with slight worry. Daichi shook his head, watching the uncanny scene in front of them with mild puzzlement. “No, I think they have it under control, there’s enough people there.”

Suga nodded after a second of contemplation, “Yeah, you’re right. I think Akaashi would rather not be surrounded by too many people right now anyway. It seems like he’ll be okay though.” Daichi lightly squeezed his setter’s shoulder before clapping his hands to catch the team’s attention, “come on everyone, let’s continue our game”.

Kuroo exchanged one more glance with Akaashi, checking if it really was okay. He knew Bokuto pretty damn well, which meant he was aware of how much his friend cared for his setter. And if his earlier reactions were anything to go by, he’d had quite the scare just now.

“Thank you for your help Kuroo-san”, Akaashi straightened a little, slightly loosening Bokuto’s hold on him. The ace in question seemed pretty adamant on staying latched on to him though. “I’m alright.”

Akaashi’s eyes signaled to Bokuto for a second: I got it from here, don’t worry. Kuroo nodded, assured that Akaashi knew what to do. He placed a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder in passing by and whispered, “Akaashi is stronger than you think Bo, he’ll be fine”.

When he joins kenma again at the other side of the court, his own setter was still fixed on Akaashi. “He’ll be okay, don’t worry Kenma.” “I’m not worried, Akaashi is strong, Bokutu looks worse.” Well... That’s one way to put it.

kuroo pulled a face as he watched Bokuto’s continued manhandling. The ace meant well, but still. Maybe Kuroo should have reminded him to be careful? Bokuto could be obliviously unaware of his own strength at times.

Kenma was still slightly frowning as well. “Hey kenma, seriously, Akaashi can handle it.” Annoyed eyes turned to him, “I know Kuroo”. “But you can’t help being worried?”, he continued, knowing he was poking the bear.

“I’m not worried.”

“Are too.”

Kenma huffed. His kitten was so adorable when he was all riled up like this, it was like a balm to the soul. “Am. Not.” The half-blonds impressive glare didn’t stop Kuroo from ruffling his hair, as he exhaled with a soft smile. Everything was fine.  

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” Akaashi appreciated his teammates concern, but he was becoming a little uneasy having all of them surrounding him like this. “No, thank you. You guys should continue the game. I’ll sit this one out”. A set of hands latched onto his arms as soon as the words left his mouth and multiple eyes ping-ponged between him and the ace behind him.

He tilted his head, leveling him with a stare, “Bokuto-san, you too”. But the ace shakes his head with a stubborn pout, undeterred, “nu-uh, I’m not playing anymore”. That did catch them of guard, Bokuto loved to play, anywhere, anytime, with anyone.

Akaashi tried again, “Bokuto-san-“ “Nope.” ... Only to be shut down again immediately. As Akaashi feels the thumping heart against his back, he knows this won’t work. Bokuto must still be more distressed than he was letting on. At the very least there was something going on with him.

Akaashi reviewed his options of further action. He could A: insist on Bokuto staying here, risking another panicked meltdown or worse, B: stay here himself so he was in Bokuto’s vicinity and Fukorodani could finish their game, or C: take Bokuto somewhere quiet with him so he could calm down and Akaashi could figure out what exactly was wrong.

Staying and playing himself was out of the question.

He wasn’t up for a discussion or had the energy it would take to convince Bokuto, especially when he was like this. So A was out. Then there was the matter of his pounding head, doing an impressive job of vetoing option B. Even when it was selfish, he would very much like to get out of here as soon as possible. In conclusion, option C seemed like his best bet.

“Bokuto-san, can you help me outside? I need some fresh air.” Bokuto seemed most startled with Akaashi giving in like this, but it didn’t take long for him to nod with insistence. Sarukui raised a brow at their setter, “Ya sure?”. “Yes. Washio, can you take over for us?” The third-year nodded without complaint.   

Bokuto looked at Akaashi like a concerned puppy, awaiting further orders. He was clearly making an effort trying to be quiet and not startle the setter too much. Akaashi often couldn’t help himself from mentally comparing the eager ace to a puppy wagging his tail, ready to play and living for attention, even when he knew Bokuto himself much rather preferred owls.

When he was like this, he very much resembled a golden retriever, aching to please his master. Akaashi’s fingers flexed. The urge to pat his head with a job well done, was getting harder to suppress these days. Now was most certainly not the time, as the setter could also see the nerves hidden in the way the other held himself. It was high time to leave.

His eyes fell on Onaga, still standing off to the side, barely daring to look at him. The first-year had a miserable expression on his face and had already apologized profusely earlier. Akaashi had waved the apologies away, he was just relieved to find out the first-year was unscathed.

“Onaga?” He jumped up, “Yes?”. “I wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being careful.” Which was just plain ridiculous, because Akaashi was always being careful. Anyone who knew Akaashi, knew that.

Onaga sputtered, “b-but senpai, you got hurt just so you wouldn’t collide with me”. A mixture of regret and guilt was clear in his voice, “I should have-“. Akaashi smiled as he interjected with ease, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ll be alright, it isn’t as bad as it looks.” He placed a comforting hand on the first-year’s shoulder with reassuring eyes, “when the coaches get back, you should get yourself checked out as well, alright?”

Then Bokuto was waltzing him out and the remaining players reassumed their positions. Komi clapped Onaga on the back, “Come on man, we need you”. The third-year noticed the unease still evident on the poor guy’s face. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Akaashi’s fine and he can handle Bokuto.” “It’s our award-winning dynamic after all”, he joked with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, our unwavering setter keeping our wild captain in check.”

The libero exchanged a knowing glance with Sarukui and was just in time to catch Konoha’s mocking eye roll. Of course they were blatantly aware that their peculiar captain all but worshipped the ground Akaashi walked on. It’s not like he was subtle about it, trailing behind him like an over-eager puppy.

Washio watched the both of them leave. From the interactions he had just witnessed, that affection didn’t seem to be based one-sidedly either.

-

The so-called “dynamic duo” made it outside and on a bench without any further hiccups. Akaashi could already feel the strain on his head easing as they left the rowdy gym behind them. Bokuto did his best to sit still, be silent, not shake so much, not bother Akaashi.  

He glanced beside him, just checking, just making sure Akaashi was okay. The setter was leaned back slightly, eyes closed, ice still held to the side of his face. His chest moving up and down as he inhaled and exhaled.

Before, seeing Akaashi like that, had made Bokuto realize something. An unpleasant something. Akaashi wasn’t invincible. Akaashi could get hurt. He could suddenly drop down, just like any other person could. Akaashi could leave him in an instant. It was common sense, Bokuto knew this.

Then why was it so scary when it was pointed out to him?

Why did that knowledge alone make his heart thump like that?

Normally the erratic beating of his heart just added to his excitement, but this wasn’t the good type of thump. This was the sweating, shaky hands and difficulty too breathe kind. He hated that kind.

“Bokuto-san, your breathing is quickening again.” Akaashi turned to face him, lowering the ice and revealing the darkening purple around his eye. Bokuto’s heart thumped some more, demanding and agitated. Lightly chiding him, Akaashi turned to him fully, “you need to breathe properly”. He placed a hand on the top of the ace’s chest, “you’re panicking, there’s no need”.

Bokuto tried to say something, but only some choked out wheeze came out. Having those blue eyes looking at him like that, with Akaashi leaning over him, wasn’t helping his heartbeat at all. It just reminded him, how he couldn’t do anything without Akaashi, how helpless he felt, how he was nothing, how he couldn’t breathe.

“Bokuto-san, breathe.” He tried to take in gulps of air, but it was messy and inconsistent. He wasn’t calming down at all. “Follow my breathing, just like earlier.” Akaashi took Bokuto’s hand in his other one, placing it on his own chest. “In”, he inhaled deeply through his nose, “and out”, he blew out the air again. “Can you feel it?”

Eventually the other managed a nod with wide eyes.

Akaashi kept his voice even and calm, “keep your chest steady. I’m right here.” Bokuto didn’t know how long it took, them breathing together, Akaashi’s hand on his chest, his hand on Akaashi’s, but they did it until his breathing finally slowed and that dreadful feeling in his chest disappeared enough for him to feel in control again.

Akaashi stayed like that, leaned over him, for a moment longer. Only retreating when he was sure he’d be okay. Bokuto slightly pinched the fabric of the shirt beneath his fingers, forcing himself to let go.

Akaashi’s face was a mixture of puzzlement and concern, “Bokuto-san, did it scare you that much?”. “You could have died”, the ace mumbled, having the sudden urge to hug his knees to his chest and making himself as small as possible. Imagining a world without Akaashi was scary, okay? 

Akaashi sighed, he didn’t know what to say to Bokuto, he didn’t want to trigger him again. He decided being firm and clear might be best, “my life was never in danger, please don’t catastrophize.” “I didn’t look like that when you were crashing to the floor”, Bokuto insisted with a scowl.

Akaashi closed his eyes for a second, gathering his own thoughts. He didn’t like seeing Bokuto like this, this uncharacteristic distress from him made his own chest squeeze together. Still, in a way he was almost grateful for the other’s panic.

It made Akaashi feel calmer and more in control, as he went into the familiar role of reassurer. It was an universal rule after all: reassuring another was way easier than one’s self.

But then a shuddering inhale caught his attention and he looked at Bokuto’s face again. He took in his trembling lip and the tears dripping from his eyes and he took it back immediately. He would take his own panic over this any day, any time.

The sight of Bokuto like this... Larger than life, cheery, self-assured Bokuto, stripped down to his most vulnerable version, because of him, was heartbreaking. Up until that moment it hadn’t gotten through that Akaashi had scared him, that much. He recalled the ace's shocked face and teary eyes from earlier. Enough for him to cry. And Akaashi had never seen Bokuto actually cry before.

He needed to comfort him, the urge overwhelming, consuming any other thought. He opened his arms, “Bokuto-san, come here.” A long pause, hesistant eyes. “W-won’t I hurt you?” He was just like a little kid, voice small and sniffling like that.

“No, you won’t, come on, it’s alright.” There was no further encouragement needed, as Bokuto nestled against him, face buried in his shirt, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist and holding on for dear life.

He sobbed wholeheartedly and Akaashi couldn’t understand most of it. But Bokuto's wail about “one side of his pretty face being all messed up now”, was heard loud and clear. The setter stroked over white and black strands as he fought the urge to smile.

“I’m alright Bokuto-san it will heal.” He got an “Uhu” in return, but the tears kept running for a little while. Akaashi didn’t try to stop them, waiting patiently for his tears to run out. When they did, Bokuto slowly righted himself, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. Then looking away in what Akaashi could only assume to be embarrassment.

Akaashi understood the sentiment. He didn't agree with it, but he understood. He turned his head to the hill before them, raising the ice to his eye once again. The throbbing was starting to go down, but the soothing chill of the ice was still an effective relief.

He gave Bokuto a moment to gather his wits, then: “I’m sorry I scared you.” “Bokuto-san, it’s just a blue eye, the swelling should go down soon enough.” Then for good measure he added, “you shouldn’t be worried, I will be back to normal before any of our upcoming games.”

Oh. Bokuto hadn’t even thought about their games or nationals or anything like that. He just... he didn’t want to play without Akaashi, the idea alone.... “But what if you die?” Akaashi closed his eyes for a second once again, inhaled, exhaled. “People die of head injuries all the time, everything seems fine and then they suddenly drop down and don’t wake up anymore!”

“This isn’t life threatening Bokuto-san, I will be just fine.” Still, Bokuto wasn’t convinced, crying had relieved him, but he just couldn’t seem to shake this horrible feeling.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Wait, I saw this on tv, you need to ask questions to make sure the person isn’t losing his mind.” In his enthusiasm he grabbed the setter’s free hand.

“Akaashi, what is your name?!” Akaashi blinked back at him with a straight face, was he serious right now? But Bokuto was looking so determined, that he decided to just give in and humor him. He preferred this Bokuto over the anguished one from earlier. “Akaashi Keiji”, he answered plainly.

“Right! Okay, when’s your birthday?” Akaashi raises a brow, unimpressed, “do you even know my birthday?” “Of course, it’s December 5^th.” He said it so matter-of-factly, without a second off contemplation, Akaashi’s surprise must have been clearly visible on his face. He didn't even think he'd ever mentioned his birthday before, how did Bokuto...?

Fortunately, the person in question didn’t seem to notice as he continued on. “Okay then, what is my birthday?” Akaashi didn’t even have to think about that one, “September 20^th”.  “Wow Akaashi, you remembered my birthday?!” Of course he did, Bokuto always insisted on a huge birthday celebration, with seemingly every single person he’d ever met and then some.

Akaashi didn’t remember all too much about the parties though, what he did remember was candle light reflected in the golden eyes staring straight at him.

Bokuto tapped his lips, a lift of his brows indicating that he came up with his next question. “Who’s your best friend?”

“Bokuto-san, how would that question determine anything?”

 “Hey, it's important!”

Akaashi wasn’t going to answer that.

“Those were enough questions, I think it’s clear that I’m not going to lose my mind.”

He suddenly realized that Bokuto hadn’t let go of his hand. The ace’s skin was warm and slightly sweaty. It wasn’t very pleasant in the current heat wave, at least that’s what common sense would say. And still...

Akaashi wiggled his fingers on instinct. The movement brought Bokuto’s attention to the fact he was still holding onto him and he dropped Akaashi’s hand with an apologetic smile.

Bokuto was always warm, almost uncomfortably so. But the setter rather liked his warm touch, he himself running more cold than hot. Given the fact that Bokuto was a tactile person, he made a perfect heater for his own chilled skin. Even now, in the sweltering heat, Akaashi all but missed the clammy warmth his hand had provided.

Despite the warm weather, goosebumps erupted on his skin. Bokuto blinked at his arm, perceptive when he wanted to be. “Is your hand cold? I’ll hold the ice for you.” He was quick to take it out of the setter’s hand. Being caught of guard, Akaashi gave it up without protest.

Before the ace could bring it to the other’s face though, he held up a hand. Bokuto froze in his tracks. “Gently”, Akaashi instructed with a pointed gaze. Bokuto nodded, determined to do a good job for his setter. Then, very slowly and softly he brought the pack to Akaashi’s face.

Silence surrounded them once again and Akaashi basked in the effect alone time with Bokuto all too often had on him. Life out there seemed a little less important, the thoughts running through his mind a little less urgent, a little less demanding, a little less necessary.

Bokuto was one of the few people whose presence could effectively slow down Akaashi’s tumultuous mind. In moments like this, Akaashi didn’t need to think everything out. He could just be.

His mind didn’t turn off (it never did), but his thoughts retreated to an existence in the background.

Bokuto likely wasn’t aware of this and Akaashi wasn’t planning on telling him either. The way the ace functioned, he’d either take it a little too well or he’d just put some unnecessary pressure on his own shoulders. Neither outcome was profitable.

Akaashi would just appreciate these moments in silence, for as long as they lasted. Gratitude filled him. Even if Bokuto didn’t exactly realise what his presence meant to Akaashi, he could still be thankful for it.

“Thank you for taking care of me Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto's heart thumped. It was the good kind this time.

It was a plain sentence, a simple praise.  

But Bokuto lived for praise. He would take anything he could get, but praise from Akaashi always meant the most. It was special and he cherished it.

He didn’t know why exactly (and he didn’t care to think about it too much either). Akaashi was just... amazing, he always knew what to say, what to do. Nothing beat the feeling of doing something right for him, of pleasing him. The way it made Bokuto proud of himself was unmatched, like someone lit him up inside.

“Are you okay?”

Bokuto jerked to attention. So lost in fuzzy feelings regarding his setter, that he had forgotten that said setter was sitting beside him, perceptive eyes included. “What?”, that wasn’t the right pitch for his voice, was it? “I mean-“, he cleared his throat, “Yeah”.

“You’re the one that got hurt, not me” he added with a quick scowl.

Akaashi narrowed his eye, not so easily deceived. “You’re flushed, did you get a sunburn?” He leaned in closer, pushing the ice down to get a better look. “Or are you not drinking enough?”

Care. Akaashi was caring and thoughtful and gentle, and also like... really funny, without even intending to be. And right now, he was leaning uncomfortably close.

“You’re getting redder.”

Bokuto turned his face away from him in attempt to get some space between them.

“It’s nothing!”

“Maybe you should use the ice”

“NO! I mean-.”

“I told you to wear sunscreen, didn’t I?”

He had indeed.

Bokuto recalled the unamused expression on Akaashi’s deadpan face, as he had told him that: “I don’t like sunscreen, it’s sticky and smells weird”.

“You look angry.” He had looked angry with that stoic, no-nonsense face of his. 

“Yes.”

 “HUH?! Hey! Akaashi, don’t be angry with me!” He had barely blinked twice, unfazed by the yell to his face. 

In the end Bokuto had relented, but: “only if you do it for me.”

“No.”

“Come on Akashi please, you have soft hands.”

“I do not.”

But he did and Bokuto had had the pleasure of feeling them gently run over his face.

He blinked back to the present where Akaashi was still peering up at him. “I’m wearing sunscreen”, he mumbled, ducking his burning face away.   

He said the first thing that he could think off so Akaashi would stop looking at him like that and his face could calm down. So the words that left his mouth next, came as a surprise to him as well.

“I should have seen it coming.”

“Bokuto-san?”

He continued. He had to now, didn’t he? “Since I’m super fast, I should have been there to catch you, ya know or pull you out of the way”, he shrugged. Instead he had just stood there, nailed to the ground, like the most useless person alive. 

Akaashi sighed internally, he was going to blame himself for this as well, wasn’t he? That’s exactly what he meant with the ‘unnecessary pressure’ he pushed onto his own shoulders. Bokuto wasn’t invincible, he didn’t have to be. But the ace didn’t seem to be able to accept that.

“Next time, I’ll be there Akaashi, I promise. Count on me, okay?” He clenched his fist as he looked straight ahead of him, off into the distance. Akaashi certainly hoped there wouldn’t be a next time, but still... 

He placed a hand on the other’s arm to make him look at him, “Bokuto-san”. “Don’t be stupid. It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have prevented it. Nothing truly terrible has happened, it was just a small accident.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Stunning Akaashi, Bokuto once again grabbed his hand with both of his. “Still, I’ll work super hard, so it won’t happen again.”

So I will never have to be scared like that again, so I can be helpful to you, so I can protect you, like you protect me.

Maybe the sun was a little extra hot today, because Akaashi felt his own cheeks warm. He saw vulnerability in Bokuto’s eyes, the need to prove himself, to be acknowledged, to be good for him. A warm feeling filled his chest and he smiled.

“Alright Bokuto-san, I’ll leave it to you.” I trust in your strength, your determination, I trust in you.

“Still... Just as you, I am only human, which means that I will fall over sometimes. Be it on the volleyball field or somewhere else. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get up. And if I get hurt, I can heal. I am not made of glass, I won’t shatter that easily.”

Trust me as well. he pleaded.

A long pause followed. Akaashi was patient.

“Okay.”

I do.

Akaashi smiled in approval, then slowly retreated his hand again.

A moment passed as the ace chewed on his lip.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

 “Right now... You- you won’t pass out again, right?”

Akaashi was patient, he really was. So, for what seemed to be the hundred time in the last hour, he calmy repeated: “I’m alright Bokuto-san, you don’t have to worry.”

Bokuto blows out some air, some of the tension leaving his body as he slumps back. He looked at Akaashi from the corner of his eye and made an effort to keep his voice even and light.  “Watching you get hurt sucked”, a slight waver remaining as he spoke.

The corners of Akaashi’s lips tipped up in gentle understanding. “Accidents happen all the time, no need to be afraid.” Words tumbled from Bokuto’s mouth, “seeing you like that is scary, like super scary, like even worse than that movie we watched on Halloween.” And it did say a lot that he was putting this above a horde of murderous dolls.  

Akaashi turned to look at him like a parent comforting a child. “I’m right here bokuto-san”, he assured him. Bokuto frowned at his lap, “You won’t always be.”

Aha.

Akaashi wouldn’t deny that the topic: “Bokuto” was often occupying his thoughts. And just as every players’ wellbeing was important to him, Bokuto’s was as well. Although circumstances dictated that he felt more personally responsible for their aces mental state.

Bokuto might seem silly or overdramatic to outsiders, but intense emotions were often overtaking him. And Akaashi knew that the proud captain was often plagued by deep insecurities and fears. Which is why he sensed that something deeper might be lurking behind Bokuto’s reactions today, apart from the shock and resulting fear of witnessing the accident. But being vulnerable wasn’t easy.

Bokuto closed his eyes, wanting so badly to push that terrible feeling away from him. Akaashi wouldn’t always be there, that’s what scared him most. Today it was just some game, but...  Never playing with him like this again? And he couldn't prevent it. 

He squeezed his own hands, swallowing, “you aren’t going to forget me, right?”

Akaashi didn’t speak until Bokuto was looking into his eyes. He was smiling warmly, so kind, Akaashi was always so kind to him. Bokuto’s heart ached. “You are unforgettable Bokuto-san and even then, I wouldn’t want to try. I’m not going to forget you.” Akaashi was so beautiful, it wasn't fair.

Bokuto’s lip quivered, “I don’t wanna say goodbye.” Akaashi furrowed his brows, where was this coming from so suddenly? Bokuto didn’t still think he was going to die, right?

He looked at the vulnerability reflected in those golden eyes. No. That wasn’t it.

I don’t wanna say goodbye... Sure, after nationals the third years would retire and then it wouldn’t be long until they graduated. He’d have to say goodbye to their team and school eventually, but there were still plenty of months ahead of them. Was that what was plaguing Bokuto?

“I only want your sets Akaashi”, the ace continued. “I won’t always be there. You’ll become a professional, play with setters who far exceed me.” The prospect of his volleyball future normally excited Bokuto, but he only huffed in return. Somewhere deep down, he knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t care. It was Akaashi who needed to be beside him.

 “I don’t want to play without you” Akaashi’s gave him a really, now?-face, before sighing. “You have played plenty of matches without me. Bokuto-san, you love playing volleyball, I’m an easily replacable variable.”

“You’re not a variable!”

...

Whatever that might be.

 “I don’t want another setter” Bokuto huffed, pouting, all but throwing a temper tantrum. As unwarranted as Bokuto’s behavior often seemed, Akaashi knew that there was always some kind of reason for it.

He contemplated what might be the thing upsetting Bokuto this much. It was almost a given the ace was going to go professional, even more of a given Akaashi was not. That wasn’t a secret to Bokuto. But in more ways than one Bokuto could still function exactly like a child and he got attached easily.

“Bokuto-san”, Akaashi tried, “we can still see each other even if I’m not your setter anymore.” The ace perked up hopefully. Seemed like that was it.

“Really?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

It didn’t quite feel like the right word to describe the relationship they had, but he lacked any alternatives. Bokuto nodded in succession, “Yes, yes, yes!!!” Of course he and Akaashi were friends. Best friends. He wanted to be around him. Always.

“Then why wouldn’t we stay in contact?”

“Even if we aren’t on the same team anymore?”

“Volleyball isn’t the only thing that connects us Bokuto-san, we can still be friends even without that”

Bokuto smiled brightly at this revelation. “Okay, yeah, I want that. Like, I really want that.” “And until then, I’ll make sure we play all the games we can together, up until the national final!” His confident Bokuto had returned, armed with optimism.

“Let's go for it together, a team is stronger than one.” Let's bear our burden together. Akaashi smiled lightly, leaning back, relieved the ace had found his vigor once more.

Comfortable silence surrounded them once again, the air around them light and airy, devoid of any tension. The ice was melted now and Akaashi knew he should probably go look for one of their coaches soon, to tell them what had happened.

“Akaashi?”

He blinked his eye open again.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto decided he might as well ask, Akaashi  had never laughed at him before. “You won’t leave me, right?”

At some point they had each placed one of their hands on the bench in the small space between them. The sides barely touched, in but a whisper of a brush. Akaashi wasn’t sure exactly how it came to be, who had made the first move or if perhaps they had done so in sync... But suddenly, he found their fingers to be intertwined.

Bokuto was extremely aware of it as well, cautious not to squeeze too hard. Akaashi was content as he let his hand absorb the warmth of the secure grip. He was still looking at the wind blowing through the trees before them. He didn’t contemplate his next words nearly as much as he should.

“I won’t”, he promised. I won't leave you. 

The representative playoffs and nationals would come and go. No matter the outcome, Bokuto would graduate and they wouldn’t play together like this anymore. Akaashi had one more year of high school left, while Bokuto would take the next step in his career.

He wasn’t exactly scared of saying goodbye, Akaashi wasn’t sentimental in the way Bokuto was. And still... He’d miss this.

He wouldn’t mind staying with him just a little longer.

Just for a little while.

Until his heart had calmed down and this feeling of nostalgia ebbed away again.

Until his thoughts became bearable once more.

Until he wouldn’t miss the steady weight of the hand in his.

Bokuto Koutaro might get attached easily, but maybe that only applied when a certain setter was concerned.

Akaashi Keiji didn't get attached easily, but there were exceptions to every rule.

And a certain ace might just be one of them. 

Chapter Text

Today was a great day, Atsumu thought as he all but ran into the Inarizaki gym.

The sun was shining, the lunch Atsumu had stolen received from his twin had been splendid, and they were certain to have a fire practice match today. How could they not, when they were playing Itachiyama.

Which meant omi-kun was going to be there as well, and Atsumu was very much looking forward to it.

The setter scanned the gym for a familiar face. He grinned when his eyes landed on the face mask hiding in the farthest corner of the room.

Bingo.

“Omi-omi!!”, the ace flinched and then froze as he realized who was calling on him. His eyes flashed around in search of an escape route when two feet stopped in front of him.

Atsumu smirked at him, “there ya are”. Sakusa didn’t answer, as he inched as far away from him as possible. He was aching for another corner to hide away in.

Kiyoomi Sakusa wasn’t friendly, not to anyone. He didn’t care to be either. He’d much rather that everyone stayed far away from him. The farther the better. The setter in front of him, however, beamed up at him. He obviously hadn’t gotten the memo, even as Sakusa's frown was a telltale sign of his own unease. 

It wasn’t even the fact alone that Atsumu always got so damn close, even if he refrained from touching him, (which was good cause Sakusa might actually faint if he did that,) but the fact that the ignorant setter always acted like they were best friends. It was weird as Sakuna had done nothing to warrant that kind of behaviour. Quite the opposite really. 

Honestly, they barely knew each other, if only through reputation. And if the thought of physically touching another person wasn’t enough to make him feel sick, he would have pushed the overbearing setter away long ago.

In the end, Atsumu retreated on his own as the other players filtered into the gym. "Let's play a good game, alright? I'm counting on you to make it interesting", is what he'd said before walking off and finally leaving Sakusa with space to breathe. The setter's scent lingered long after he'd left. 

Soon enough after that, their game commenced.

Of course, Atsumu was doing his usual tricks, nothing unexpected for anyone who knew him. He always found a way to push their players, switching with his twin, setting in the most unconventional of positions... It made for a good match and a challenging opponent. And both teams seemed to be pretty evenly matched as they played.

They were almost at the end of their first set when Aran watched the ball fly over his head. Nothing to do about that one, they’d never r- Atsumu sprinted past him. After all, the more impossible the ball, the more he craved to set it, his fingers twitching with the challenge. Kita watched it play out from the sidelines with an impassive face. A monster, he thought, Atsumu Miya was an absolute monster.

No one was particularly surprised, albeit still impressed, when the eccentric blonde ran after the ball, crossed the sidelines, jumped, and gave a perfect set in mid-air. 

What Atsumu hadn’t considered was how or where he’d land.

Which meant he had no time to prevent himself from crashing into the score board and landing on top off a bench, the wind knocked out of him. He honestly didn’t even know how he’d managed that. One second, he was in the air, the next he was on the floor, his body aching all over.

He did however hear the whistle signaling a point was made. He grinned to himself, great, he’d made it. Then he slumped back and closed his eyes.

-

“There doesn’t seem to be an outer head injury”, Kita’s monotone voice brought him back to the land of the living.

“Fucking idiot, always doing shit without using his stupid head!”.

Atsumu frowned, which only worsened the pounding in his head. “Oi, Samu your voice is too loud”, he complained, rubbing his forehead as he opened his eyes.

Kita too was kneeling by his side, behind him was the rest of the team, a few steps back to give their captain some space. Huh weird, when had they gotten here so fast? Atsumu must have been out of it more than he’d realised.

His brother was crouched down next to him, with Aran standing behind them. Kita wasted no time time and started firing off questions while peering at him. Atsumu never got used to their captain's intense stare, pinning him in place. 

“What’s your name?”

Atsumu looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Or maybe he had lost his mind.

He sputtered, “what are ya-“ “Your name.”

...

“Tsumu?”

“Your full name.” Their captain really was unrelenting in his questioning. What was this an interrogation?  

“Alright, alright”, Atsumu frowned and groaned slightly as he tried to right himself.

“Stay down.” God.

But he figured the faster he complied, the better.

“I’m Atsumu Miya.”

“Date of today?”

The setter scrunched his brow in an effort to remember, who even bothered remembering dates? Fortunately, it only took a second for him to recall the right one and on the first try at that.

Not that Kita’s rapid fire eased.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Atsumu blinked at the hand in front of him, “three”.

“When’s your birthday?”

“October 5^th.”

Osamu chose that moment to butt in, “When’s my birthday?”.

Atsumu blinked. 

“The same day, you fuck!” Did he have nothing better to do than being a smartass?

“Just checking if you didn’t lose too many braincells, you can’t afford it.” Atsumu growled in annoyance, what did that prick just say?

Kita ignored their bickering and continued, “Any pain?” You mean besides his twin being a pain in the ass?

“Yeah, my head is pounding, and I’m starting to hate that fucking light scorching my eyeballs.” He gestured to the overhead lights who were a little too bright as far as his head was concerned and promptly shut his eyes. 

“Keep your eyes open, will ya!” Of course his twin’s screeching went right into his ear, great.

At least Kita’s calm and steady voice cut through the rest of the ruckus, giving him something to focus on. “You need to stay conscious Atsumu.” With a groan he blinked his eyes open to face his captain once more. Fine, he was as conscious as could be. 

If Atsumu had been in the mood, he would be touched by his captain’s care. He wasn’t even trying to correct his ‘colorful’ language, which said a lot.

-

At the same time, Sakusa found himself unintentionally inching closer to the small gathering. Once he realized what he was doing, he immediately frowned, stopping in his tracks.

What on earth was he trying to do?

He wasn’t stupid, there was no reason for him to approach. It’s not like no one was helping Atsumu. Besides, maybe the setter had some disgusting injury, with blood gushing out, germs crawling all over. The thought alone made Sakusa shudder in repulsion.

And still... It wouldn’t hurt to get a little closer, a safe distance, just to check. He, like everyone else present had watched almost transfixed as the setter had crashed down. Sakusa very much wished he hadn’t seen though, as goosebumps erupted all over his own body. A mirrored misplacement in reaction to watching Atsumu go down.

It’s better to see that he’s alright, otherwise those catastrophic images in his head would just keep plaguing him. Already, the pounding of his own pulse was too loud and uncomfortable and he felt awry in his own skin.

He truly wished he could just shut it off, all these unpleasant feelings all the time.

In the end he found himself taking a few more hesitant steps closer. He was just checking what had happened. Just checking if Atsumu was alright or if they needed medical assistance or something.

After all, that had been an impressive, albeit extremely foolish, set and it wasn’t like the setter was a total stranger to him. He had been heckling Sakusa more often than not during the National Training Camp. It had been beyond annoying. Very annoying. Extremely annoying, really.

It wasn’t like he cared, but he wasn’t that heartless of a person either. So it wasn't that weird to want to check up on him. He just needed a quick peek to assure himself that Atsumu was alright and that the images in his head were wrong. Then his body would calm down and he could move on with his life.

In barely any time Sakusa made it to the edge of the circle consisting of the few people surrounding the setter. His twin brother, Inarizaki’s captain and their ace were all there. He could see Atsumu now. He was sitting upright, focused on his captain as he answered his questions. He looked a little worse for wear, pale, sweaty and lightly shaking, but apart from that he seemed pretty fine.

Sakusa took a small step closer, he couldn’t see any injuries or blood, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

-

Kita was still asking Atsumu questions, their captain really was unwavering. “Any other injuries?”. “Might have a bruise here or there”, Atsumu shrugged (or at least he tried to without jostling his head too much). It was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Dizziness?”

“Euhm...”

The second of contemplation was enough for Kita to raise his brows into an impressive don’t-fuck-with-me look. He would not be pleased with that label, but as far as Atsumu knew their captain hadn’t mastered mind reading just yet. Which meant: no harm done by his inner thoughts. Kita's lie detector on the other hand, was not one to fuck with, so Atsumu answered truthfully.

“Yeah, a little bit”, he admitted, knowing he had probably just thrown away his chance of continuing in their game.

“Nausea?”  

Atsumu face turned serious, “always when I’m looking at Samu.”

...

“Count yerself lucky ya already have a head injury, ya ass, or I would have given ya one myself!”

“Hey, knock it off, both of you”, their ace wasn’t amused, looking at both of them with a sigh. He truly felt bad for their parents from time to time. Could the two of them behave for five minutes?

Seems like Atsumu's thump to the floor hadn't taken any of his liveliness, that much was clear. 

“Atsumu”, Kita narrowed his eyes in warning. The captain hadn’t even blinked at his earlier statement, even though it was damn funny. Whatever. Atsumu pointedly ignored his brothers glare, as he smiled to himself.

“Nah, no nausea.”

He was fine really, he had played matches feeling way worse. He had won matches feeling way worse. Kita nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. So, no more questions? Atsumu exhaled in relief.

Then, Aran bend down next to them as well, “do you think you can get up?”

Atsumu grinned, itching to finally get up from this floor, “I'm certainly willing to try”.

As his brother and his captain both helped him up, he quickly realised that he'd made a mistake. A wave of nausea rushed to his head as soon as he got back on his feet. And before he could stop it, he was throwing up all over the floor.

And, as he realized a moment later, on the sneakers of the unfortunate souls standing close enough to catch the fallback. He stumbled back down, then dry heaved for a while hunched over on the floor.

Kita closed his eyes for a second, inhaling and exhaling softly, already planning how exactly he was going to clean up the mess.

His brother on the other hand, let out a loud curse, jumping away from his twin almost immediately. “Tsumu, that’s disgusting!”

But he quickly snapped out of it when he saw the grim state his twin was in. “Hey, ya alright?” Atsumu coughed, his throat raw, great another part of his body aching. He felt pretty shit at the moment, disgusting and embarrassed. Screw his earlier statement, today was so not his day.

He forced out an answer, looking up at the same time, “I’m-“. The setter froze as his eyes crossed Sakusa’s, the rest of words disappearing off his tongue.

The ace was pale, his body rigid, he was shaking.

Completely against his nature, the second Atsumu had bend over to puke his guts out, Sakusa had rushed forward. For what he didn’t’ know, his body had moved on instinct, trying to reach the other.

Why did he do that?

His hands felt numb.

WHY?

The ace had gone an almost gray shade now, as he stood frozen in place, staring at the specks of puke on his shoes.

He cursed himself, his body, his shoes, his bad luck, the universe. He felt vile, deranged, sick to his own stomach.

Atsumu felt his heart drop. Omi-kun was bad with these sorts of things, wasn’t he? And still he'd joined his side. Why was he here, so close to him? Had he wanted to make sure Atsumu was okay? That just made him feel a million times worse.

“Omi-kun, I didn’t mean to”, he chocked out weakly, his voice slightly shaking. He felt so so bad. This really was the worst. He could cry right now. 

Sakusa clenched his jaw, swallowing deliberately, his hands forming into fists, his mind going into overdrive. He could basically feel the germs scrawling all over his body, seeping into his skin. He felt absolutely disgusting.

“It’s... fine”, he managed to bite out. It wasn't fine. It wasn't anywhere near to fine, but it wasn’t Atsumu’s fault. He hadn’t done it on purpose.

This, however, was exactly why Sakusa stayed as far away from other people as possible.

Where humans were, there were human fluids and germs and everything vile and dirty Sakusa tried oh so hard to avoid. As long as humans were around him, feeling dirty was unavoidable.

Itachiyama’s libero had witnessed everything that had happened from a safe distance.

He took in his cousin's stiff form and knew the ace was a second away from succumbing to his own panic. This was not good.

Komori grimaced as he quickly made his way to his cousin, careful not to touch him. He kept his voice light, “come on, let’s go get you cleaned up". The ace closed his eyes, braced himself and then gave a quick nod.

“The showers are at the end of the hall” Kita helpfully supplied. Komori smiled at him in thanks, before leading Sakusa out of the gym. Cautious of the puddle of vomit at their feet.

Aran turned to their setter, currently busy drowning in a pool of his own misery. “Well then, now what to do with you?” Atsumu curled into himself, not bothering with an answer.

“I can clearly recall you telling me, you weren’t nauseous.”

He got that Kita wasn’t amused with him right now, but did he have to point that out? Atsumu felt bad enough as it was.

“Trust me capt’n, that came out of nowhere for me as well.” And believe him when he said that he would have done anything to prevent what had just transpired. He buried his head into his knees and groaned, of course he had to go and throw up on Omi. What kind of bad luck did he have? 

“Are you still feeling nauseous? Do you need a bucket?”

“No.”

Kita was going to get him a bucket anyway, wasn’t he?

Osamu clapped him on the back in an attempt to comfort. “Ya wanna try getting up again?”. His twin definitely wasn’t going to let him live this down. But seeing the pitiful state Atsumu was currently in, he did go easy on him.

“I’m dirty”, Atsumu mumbled from against his knees, swallowing in self-pity. “Come on”, Osamu grabbed his twin's arm and placed it around his shoulder, before placing his own arm around his brother's waist and pulling him to his feet.

“Let’s go get ya cleaned up then.”

“Yer gonna get puke on yerself”, Atsumu pointlessly supplied, limply hanging against his brother. Like a doll with the life sucked out of him.

Drama queen.

“Yeah yeah, we share the same DNA and all, figured I can handle yer stink for a lil’ while.”

Atsumu blinked at him, “Samu?”.

“Now shut yer face before ya create another disaster. And don’t think for a second that I appreciate my lunch ending up like that, ya pig.”

So far for his suddenly found kindness.

With small steady steps, the pair made it to another bench a little further from everyone (and the vomit). Kita had him drink a few sips of water, holding out a towel as well. Atsumu took it gratefully, “Thanks Capt’n”.

“When you feel well enough, you should go to the nurse.”

“I’ll take him, don’t think there’d be any other volunteers.”

Silence greeted them, seems like Osamu had guessed right.

Atsumu turned to his teammates who were doing their best not to look at him, “hey! That’s so mean!”

“Ya just threw up all over the floor ya doofus, what did ya expect?”

Kita scrutinized him once more, then nodded, before silently walking away. No doubt on his way to single handedly clean up the mess Osamu’s Atsumu’s lunch had made.

Suna was off to the side, observing quietly, mourning the fact that he hadn’t been able to film the whole thing.

Today truly was a disaster. 

-

The crawling sensation on his skin still remained, even after showering and changing and getting the offending shoes out of his sight, and Sakusa knew he had hours of scrubbing ahead of him until he would feel fully ‘right’ again. But after sitting outside for a while, he had calmed down, at least enough for him to find the courage to get onto the bus.

He was, however, interrupted before he could take an actual step into the vehicle.

“Omi-kun!”, for the second time today Sakusa froze at the exclamation of his name. At that moment the ace wanted nothing more than to create as much distance as possible between himself and the one who had called out to him. His mind screaming with the possibility of Atsumu throwing up again, all over him, as the memories from earlier played on a loop.

He shivered, but stood his ground nonetheless, not scooting away, waiting until the blonde stopped before him. It took all the effort he had.

Atsumu seemed to have regained some color in his face, and his body appeared to move just fine. He was slightly out of breath from running just now and his hair was wet from what Sakusa could only assumed (and hoped) to be a well-needed shower.

“What?”

Atsumu’s face fell as he took a step back, raising his hands in the air to show he meant no harm. The setter knew Sakusa didn’t like to be touched, and certainly not right now, by him of all people. So he tried to respect that boundary as much as he could.

“Don’t worry, I’m clean now. I showered and changed and everything.” Omi didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck, “I just... I wanted to apologize for earlier, I know ya get weird about stuff like that”.

Sakusa’s blank face quickly morphed into a scowl and Atsumu hurried to correct himself. Stupid dumbass! “I mean... euh, sensitive?” He swiftly continued when he got no notable reaction in return. “Anyway, no one likes to get puke on them”, he looked at his shuffling feet with red ears, “but I figured it must be especially bad for you, so I’m very sorry, truly”.

A moment of silence passed. Atsumu didn’t dare face him.  

“Is that it?”

Atsumu looked up at him in surprise, “Yeah?”.

The ace only nodded and then turned around. A second passed, whatever Atsumu had expected Sakusa to do, calmly accepting (?) His apology hadn’t been it. He’d assumed the ace would scream in horror the second he saw him, or hiss, or call out to someone to get him out of his sight. Atsumu was slightly stunned and also... didn’t feel as horrible as he had a moment before?

As he watched Sakusa make his way on the bus, he had regained enough courage to add: “And we’re gonna destroy ya in our next match, just so ya know!”, with a yell to his back.

Sakusa gave no sign that he’d heard the setter, his pace didn’t falter as he continued to climb up the stairs, he didn’t answer, he didn’t stop, his hands didn’t move. But safely concealed under a mouth mask, out of sight from any prying eyes, there might have been a slight smile on his face.

He’d look forward to it, Atsumu Miya.

Chapter Text

“Iwa-chan, you’re never going to find a girlfriend if you always look like it physically hurts you to smile.”

Iwazuime turned to glare at the asshole next to him. He had a bad feeling about today.

It had started as soon as he woke up with his heart beating too loudly, his skin too hot, his breathing feeling too unnatural. The premonition that something dreadful was waiting to happen hung heavy in the air. There was something inherently wrong about today and Iwazuime was going crazy figuring out what exactly that might be.

Oikawa, of course, had immediately noticed his (in Oikawa’s words) ‘even-more-grumpy-than-usual Iwa-chan’ demeanor as they were walking to school.

Which brought him to his current predicament.

“Shut up, Crappykawa!”

Oikawa, of course, went on like he hadn’t heard a thing. “I’m just saying, what has you all frowny when the day has barely started?”

Iwazuime ignored him.

“Dropped your breakfast?”

Silence.

“Fell out of bed?”

No reaction.

“Ran out of toilet paper?”

He narrowed his eyes, not saying a word.

A warm breath blew against his ear.

“Had a bad dream?”

Iwazuime pushed Oikawa off harshly, earning him an offended yelp, and slapped a hand over his ear.

“It’s nothing, now leave me the fuck alone, you annoying piece of shit!”

Oikawa gasped in outrage, then pouted.

“You’re so mean Iwa! I’m only concerned.” He batted his eyelashes the epitome of fake innocence.

“Yeah right.”

“Well, if you don’t appreciate me, I will just leave you alone to wallow in your own grumpiness”, Oikawa crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue, before turning his head away with a huff.

They arrived at school in silence, Oikawa busy typing on his phone with a hum and Iwazuime staring straight ahead (simultaneously making sure the idiot next to him wasn’t running into a pole). Oikawa was quick to flag down their other friends with a melodic “Maki! Matsu!”, before joining them.

The hair on the back of Iwazuime’s neck stood up as he watched Oikawa laugh at something Mattsun said. He tried to shrug it off as he walked over to them, the sooner this day was over the better. He could not wait for this feeling to disappear.

-

The day proceeded as usual with nothing going horribly wrong, but the feeling didn’t go away. Not only did it linger, but the more time passed, the more urgent it became. It wasn’t rational, but he just couldn’t seem to shake the belief that something bad was going to happen.

It was starting to make him paranoid.

After all, this wasn’t the first time a feeling like this had tormented him and-

He clenched and unclenched his fist.

 “Iwa-chan! Come on!”

And he never felt on edge without reason. 

Despite this, the end of the day neared eventless and then it was time for their practice match. Sendai high school had reached out for one last friendly game before the Miyagi Prefecture Representative Playoffs. They played decent enough, but Iwazuime highly doubted they would make for true practice. Seijoh had high standards after all.

Oikawa walked up to greet their captain, an air of bravado around him. Iwazuime’s followed him from a distance. This display alone was often enough to intimidate other teams.

Oikawa was known by reputation, as was their team, but it wasn’t just that.

It was the utter confidence emitted with every self-assured step he took. It were those sharp eyes that could pick apart your deepest insecurities with just a few glances. It was how he smiled as if he could already predict your every next move... THAT was the true power behind the image Oikawa Toruu portrayed.

As Iwazuime looked at him and tried to see what all those other teams saw. He could only imagine what went through their minds: Oikawa Toruu, captain of Aoba Johsai, was a monster. A vicious one that wouldn’t hesitate to rip you apart and smile while doing it.

Oikawa eyed the guy before him with a slight smile. Sendai’s volleyball captain liked to make a show with that fake friendliness of his. He smiled placidly, his snake-like eyes turning into slits as he held out his hand. 

“May the best team win.”

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa wasn’t falling for it.

He took the hand undeterred, returning the shake. He had excepted the tight squeeze and he almost laughed out loud at being proven right.

How predictable.

He squeezed back....  Twice as hard.

How pathetic.

“Trust me, we will”, he answered simply. His cheerful smile was not at all in tune with the threatening undertone in his words. He winked, then turned around and sauntered back to his own team.

His eyes were twinkling dangerously.

Oikawa was going to wipe the court with them.

Iwazuime glanced back at the Sendai players. His eyes narrowed. Oikawa’s usual jaunting aside, he didn’t like the way Sendai’s ace stared at Oikawa’s back. His lips slowly curled into a smirk with cruel intent in his eyes.

“Did you see that?”, he asked Maki who was standing beside him.

“Huh, what?”

“Sendai’s ace, looking at Oikawa like some kind of vulture.”

“No? But you know Oikawa, he probably said something to get under their skin. They’re just intimidated... or offended... or both, which isn’t exactly a bad thing for us.” Maki shrugged before lightly clapping him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, man.”

They took their positions and with the blew of a whistle their first set commenced.

The other team was an interesting enough challenger... but as expected, they had nothing on Aobo Johsai.  It didn’t take long for their obvious difference in skill to show. Seijoh dominated the game. Before long they had smoothly won the first set and were well on their way at taking the second one as well.

Iwazuime could see the frustration rise on the other side of the court and Oikawa couldn’t help but taunt. He had just pulled of a bold setter dump and it was rather humiliating how easily Sendai’s ace had fallen for it.

Their captain particularly enjoyed rubbing salt into his opponents’ wounds.

“And here I thought you guys would use the last few months to improve at least a little... Oh well.” He smiled down at the ace cruelly, basking in delight. “Better pay attention, because I’m going to do that again, alrighty?” The ace’s cheeks burned with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment as he glared at Aoba Johsai’s captain with intent.  

He begrudgingly got up and exchanged a heavy glance with his own setter.

The whistle blew again.

Sendai’s setter managed to get to the ball, passing to their ace without even attempting to deceive.

Oikawa jumped in to block with ease, the ace’s dark eyes crossed his, but he didn’t aim for the court behind him as Oikawa expected him to.

No, instead he changed the angle of his spike at the last possible moment.

He should have seen it coming.

Truly Oikawa should have seen it coming. Seeing as the ball was heading straight for him, nevermind the last-millisecond change.

In all honesty he had seen it coming. It was just... by the time the ball skyrocketing straight towards his face registered to him, it was already way too late.

A force slammed into his head, so strong it took his whole body with it, effortlessly tipping him out of balance.

The gym around him tilte and there was no telling what was up or down anymore. His teeth clashed together painfully, the shock reverberating throughout his skull. His ears were ringing making it impossible to discern the sounds around him.

The confusing succession of events muddled together before he could make sense of it and then... someone turned off the light.

....

The rest of the gym stood there, processing what had just happened, not really knowing what to do. Oikawa was on the floor... motionless like a rag doll.

A moment passed.

And then the silence was broken, “Oikawa, stop playing games and get up.” It was Iwazuime who had said it.

That melodramatic piece of shit, Iwazuime was going to kill him if he didn’t get up right now.

He was just doing this on purpose... right?

But he had heard the sound the ball made as it collided with Toruu’s head. As if someone had smashed it against a wall with full force.

Not a good sign. Because Oikawa was still on the floor... still motionless. No whine, No whimper, no complaint of any kind.

Iwazuime refused to believe that this was anything but an opportunity in the spotlight taken though. Cause if he didn’t, if it wasn't, that would mean that... He felt his own heart rate accelerate. Their captain might be an overdramatic piece of crap, but during a match his sole focus was always on winning.

So, why wasn’t he getting up damnit?

Why wasn’t he moving?

Why wasn’t he making a sound?

Oikawa was always fine. Iwazuime knew as much, after all he himself had thrown countless of volleyballs at his head. Oikawa only ever whined, told him he was mean, rubbed the sore spot with a pout and went on with his life.

He didn’t just drop down to the floor.

And Iwazuime started to fear that it wasn’t that Oikawa didn’t get up, but that he couldn’t.

Growing dread filled him. The ace had never wished quite so desperately to be proven wrong. Oikawa had gotten slammed down right in front of him though, Iwazuime had seen first-hand how he’d crumpled down as if made of paper.

Cold sweat clung to his skin, this... was this the reason behind that awful feeling that had been clinging to him all day?

Fucking calm down, he told himself as he rushed forward.

It was just stupid Oikawa, he was like a cockroach, there was nothing that could stop him. He always got back up, with that stupid smirk on his face even when there was pain reflected in his eyes.

He would get up and he would whine and he would say stupid things and make stupid demands, always adamant on getting under his skin, but he would be fine.

Iwazuime stopped. He got his first good look. His heart beat in his throat.  

Oikawa’s eyes were closed, his skin was pale, there was a huge red mark on his forehead.

Fuck.

It had always been hard watching Oikawa in pain. Not that Iwazume thought seeing someone, anyone in pain was particularly enjoyable, but it was different with Toruu. Sure, they had been friends since childhood, so of course they had a ‘bond’ as Oikawa liked to flaunt.

But it wasn’t just that.

There was something about watching the proud Oikawa, who held himself with the invincible power of a god, getting taken down... that felt deeply wrong.

It made Iwazuime himself feel oddly vulnerable and weak, helpless. As if his own foundation had crumbled down along with him. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, even though he had been too hot only a second ago.

Trying to get a grip on the rising feeling of panic bubbling in his chest, Iwazuime got on his knees and leaned over Oikawa to listen to his breathing. His fingers encircled the other’s limp wrist.

Come on.

A second passed.

He could feel the faint air against his cheek, the steady thump of a pulse beneath his fingers.

Thank-

“Iwazuime?”, Maki was standing at his side, staring at their captain with a scowl on his face and an air of uncertainty around him.

“Keep everyone back for now, I don’t know how bad it is.” Maki nodded, him and Mattsun swiftly ushering everyone away to give the two of them some space.  

Oikawa’s cheeks were wet, tears must have filled his eyes from the shock of the hit.

Iwazuime raised his hand to brush some stray hair out of his face.  

His hand was shaking.

Toruu’s skin was clammy to the touch.

He had been standing there smiling not even a minute ago.

FUCK.

He softly traced under the other’s eye. Just look at me. I don’t care if you’ll whine, or yell, or cry, or talk shit. Just... open your eyes, okay?

He didn’t know what to do, sharp claws crawling up his spine, ove his shoulders, around his throat paralyzing him.  

 Maybe he’d sensed his touch or his dread, or perhaps Oikawa could simply read thoughts, because suddenly Iwazuime got the slightest glimpse of brown unfocused eyes fluttering open... only to immediately fall closed again.

It had been so short-lived Iwazuime wasn’t entirely sure if his mind had just made the whole thing up.

“Oikawa?”

Iwazuime cupped his jaw, slightly tipping his head up, trying to be gentle, because he might make it worse if he moved his head to much, but damn it his hands would not stop shaking.

 Shit shit SHIT!

“Oikawa!”

His eyes didn’t open again and Iwazuime almost shook him in frustration.

He turned towards their group of players huddled a little farther away and spoke to the first person his eyes recognized. “Kindaichi, get the nurse!”

This was bad, this was so bad...

The first-year jumped up, eyes frightened, before taking off with a nod, Kunimi not far behind him.

He turned to his friend again, voice more pleading than demanding, “Oikawa, wake up.” Or I swear to god...

Someone kneeled across from him. “He’s not responding?”, Mattsun’s voice betrayed his uneasiness. It was unsettling for all of them seeing their captain, their friend, like this.

“He opened his eyes just now, but he couldn’t keep them open.” Iwazuime swallowed, “did you see, how-how hard the-“

Iwazuime hadn’t seen, he was standing behind Oikawa. He’d only heard that sickening sound, before the ball took Oikawa down with it. It had happened so fast, he hadn’t even been able to move, yell, to anything.

“It came down strong, spiked straight to his face, a lot of power behind it”, Mattsun’s eyes were serious as he looked at him.

“Fuck.”

“Iwa?”

That voice...

Iwazuime’s eyes flew to Toruu’s face. He was scrunching his brow, eyes still closed, but he was moving, he was talking, he was conscious.

Fuck.

Don’t scare me like that ever again, you fucking prick.

Iwazuime let out a breath and took a second to gather his wits, he would NOT speak with a shake in his voice. “Oikawa? Can you open your eyes?”

He whimpered, it was such a soft sound, it didn’t fit him.

Being on the floor, didn’t fit him.

Getting bruised, didn’t fit him.

Being in pain, shouldn’t fit him, and still... didn’t it? How many times had Iwazuime seen his friend in physical pain? All too often by his own doing, by his own stubbornness, not this time though.

Oikawa blinked a few times, more tears escaping, his eyes cloudy.  

When he was actually hurt, Oikawa didn’t whine, or moan, or complain. He got disturbingly quiet when he was in true pain. Iwazuime had had plenty of experience with the stubborn setter going over his own boundaries, playing until his arms were sore, until his legs gave out, until Iwaizumi had to all but drag him out, until he injured his knee...

The ace had been there as well when that injury happened, could still recall the sickening crunch. Oikawa was suddenly on the floor, tears filling his eyes as they were now, and he hadn’t made a sound, not a single noise, not even a shuddering breath. He had only looked at Iwazuime with this helpless, desperate look on his face.

Iwaizume recalled with a start that he’d had the same vague uncomfortable sense of premonition the day that happened. He shivered.

“Iwa, my head hurts”, he sounded so confused, it was disturbing.

“You got hit by a volleyball.”

...

Oikawa frowned, trying to focus on his face, fumbling to form a sentence. “Did you- Was it you?”

“No! Don’t you remember what happened, where we are?”

More silence.

Then he started moving. “What the hell are you doing?”, Iwazuime stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I want to sit up.”

“Don’t move so suddenly, we don’t know what the state of your head is like, stay down for now.”

“Iwa, I want to sit up, please, my head is fine.”

“You just got face-slammed to the floor, your head is fine if a professional confirms it is. So don’t say stupid shit.”

“Okay, okay, just... help me up... please? It hurts to lay down.”

Iwazuime knew how much Oikawa hated having to ask for any kind of help seeing it as a personal failure. He must be hurting a lot more than he let on if he admitted to needing help so easily.

With an uncanny gentleness Iwazuime cupped the back of Oikawa’s head with both his hands. Oikawa stared at him, placing his own hands on Iwa’s arms for support.His neck was warm, his cheeks were flushed and there was an uncanny intimacy that came from looking each other in the eye so closely. 

“You ready?” Oikawa nodded, bracing himself. The ace moved painfully slow in pulling his setter up, meticulous in his care.  Once he was upright, Oikawa closed his eyes once again, only for a second this time though. He leaned most of his weight on Iwazuime, the latter unbothered by this. There was comfort in the familiar closeness.

Now that he was up, Oikawa took a moment to take in their surroundings.

“Oh my, what are all those grim faces for?” he said as he took in their teammates displaying varying degrees of apprehension. Most of their group had kept their distance when Oikawa woke up to give them some quiet.

If their situation were anything else Iwazuime would have slapped the back of his head to get rid of his idiocy.

“You scared everyone by collapsing and not waking up.” Quite the terrifying sight, Toruu.

Oikawa opened his mouth but Kindaichi took that moment to rush inside the gym once again, effectively interrupting whatever he was about to say.

The first-year was breathing heavily as he reached their side, he didn’t take a second to catch his breath, choosing to immediately rattle off a stream of words instead. “The... the nurse was gone,... apparently-on the-you know the-the SOCCER FIELD! There was some kind of injury, so Kunimi went after her.”

He suddenly seemed to remember that he was carrying something, thrusting it forward, “I got ice!”.

He cast a tentative glance at his captain currently leaning against Iwazuime, hesitantly he asked: “Is Oikawa-san okay?”.

Oikawa perked up with a smile, “awww Kindaichi, are you worried about me?”. He took the ice gratefully, slightly wincing when the cold met his pounding head, bfore letting out a sigh of relief.

Always the best at hiding your own pain, aren’t you Toruu? Idiot.

He narrowed his eyes at him, “How could they not be worried about you, dumbass?! You dropped down as if dead!”

Don’t ever do that again.

“Iwa-chan, you’re acting like it’s my fault.”

“Oikawa-san?”, Kindaichi chose that moment to but in.

Oikawa turned to his kōhai with an encouraging “Yoo hoo”.  

“Is... How is-“

“My head feels horrible really, especially when Iwa-chan keeps yelling like that, but don’t worry your own little head about it. Tomorrow I’ll be great as ever.” He brushed it over with the ease they were used of their confident captain and a conspiring, playful wink (or attempt to).

Oikawa continued on, not giving any of them time to react, “and Kunimi, went to go get to nurse? All on his own? They grow up so fast-AU!”. He winced as a stab of pain shot through his head.

Iwazuime immediately took the ice from him, “I told you to be careful. Kindaichi would you mind leaving us alone for a moment?” He wasn’t looking at the first year, his sole focus on the person before him.

“Yes, sure!”

Oikawa managed to thank him for the ice, his smile wavering as Iwazumi fussed over him with a scowl. “It’s fine, Iwa”, he tried to wave it away. The other threw a glare so fierce at him it immediately shut him up.

Iwazuime contemplated their situation, Oikawa leaning against him, his skin still far too pale for his liking, his form slightly trembling and decided getting off the middle of the court might be in their best interest. Oikawa wasn’t doing great, but he was conscious and talking, he didn’t seem too disoriented and his eyes were reacting normal as far as he could tell, they should be able to manage. Besides, the floor wasn't exactly comfortable and they would have some more privacy.

“Mattsun!”

“Yeah? You doing alright, captain?”

“I’ve been better”, he weakly supplied. Mattsun nodded in understanding, then turned to Iwazuime, “you need assistance?”.

“I want to get him over to the benches, do you think you can handle that?”, the last part was directed at the setter currently settled in his arms. Oikawa started to nod, then thought the better off it and supplied them with a verbal “Yes”.

“Alright”, the ace turned to Mattsun again, “I don’t want to jostle his head too much in getting up, I think we should manage if we support him on either side”.

“Iwa, I can get up by my own just fine”, Oikawa huffed, annoyed at being talked over. He wasn’t a kid.

“I’m not going to risk you collapsing again, you’re going to let us help you”, Iwazuime wasn’t taking any chances, better safe than sorry, Oikawa could be stubborn all he wanted, Iwazuime wasn’t going to let him be stupid as well. And as stubborn as Oikawa could be, Iwazuime could be even more.

“Iwa-“

“No.”, Iwazuime threw back unrelented.

In the end Iwa had wrapped Oikawa’s one arm around his shoulder, one of his own arms curled around the setter’s back with the other holding his head steady. With him mostly on ‘keeping-Oikawa-stable’ duty, Mattsun was the one doing most of the actual pulling, having taken a hold of Oikawa’s free hand. Slow and steady they easily managed to get Oikawa standing on two feet again.

As soon as he was on his own feet, he tried to wiggle out of Iwazuime’s arms, the latter only tightened his hold. Oikawa scowled, “What are you doing?”

“Supporting you”, wasn’t that obvious?

Oikawa’s glare deepened, before he decided to take a different approach adopting a sugary sweet expression, “There is clearly no need, but thank you so much Iwa-chan for thinking of me, such a gallant helper, pity that there are no girls here to see it.”

“You can say whatever you want, I’m not letting go.” Oikawa’s smile froze on his face, becoming strained. “Now, come on.”

Oikawa didn’t budge. “Iwa...”, his voice was soft, unusually so, but his eyes held insistence, “I can manage myself”.

Oikawa despised looking weak in front of others. Of course, Iwazuime knew this after a lifetime of watching Oikawa refusing any kind of help, claiming he didn’t need it.

With as gentle of a voice as he could manage, he tried to reassure him, “Hey, you’re injured, don’t be stupid, let’s not make it worse, okay?”.

Mattsun silently stood beside them, but nodded in confirmation.

Oikawa looked at him for a moment, weary and clearly unwilling, Iwazuime stared back with raised brows, unwilling to back down. The former eventually closed his eyes, releasing a breath (that sounded suspiciously like a sigh), before letting out a “hmm” of confirmation.

That wasn’t so hard now, was it?

Iwazuime was very glad he hadn’t relented. As the pair made their way towards the nearest bench, Oikawa’s feet had trouble finding bearing, his legs weaker than he let on. In the end the setter had no choice but to all but slump against Iwazuime. His jaw was clenched, eyes downcast, he truly hated this.

Not giving him a chance to argue, Iwazuime guided Oikawa down on the bench before taking place beside him, effectively functioning as support once again. He wasn’t letting him out of his sight until he was properly checked-up and cleared.

He placed the ice against Oikawa’s head again, simultaneously guiding him closer to him. Oikawa was concerningly pliant, in this light it was easier to see how pale he’d gotten, how the red angry mark on his head remained as if painted there. “Are you okay?”.

“Fine”, he croaked out, not lifting his head to look at him.

Bullshit. But was there any use in arguing with Oikawa in this state?

Would it kill you to admit you’re feeling bad?

“Are you dizzy?” He narrowed his eyes at him, “close your eyes for a little, but stay with me”, he stressed. He got a half hum-like sound in return.

Where was that nurse when they needed her?

“What do we do with the rest of the game?”, Iwazuime had momentarily forgotten Mattsun was still standing next to them.

He narrowed his eyes at the other team in distrust. “Let’s take a break for now, but I have no intention of finishing this game or any game with them for that matter”.

“Aye aye vice-captain, you need anything else?”

Iwazuime watched Oikawa’s slumped form and gave him a slight tap, “Kawa? You still conscious?” He groaned out a “hmm, yeah?” almost immediately. Good. Iwazuime wasn’t sure if he could deal with any passing out again.

“Show me your eyes for a second” Unclear eyes looked up as he obeyed. Iwazuime hummed as he tenderly brushed a piece of hair from the other’s face, “still dizzy?” Oikawa moved his head in what could only be assumed to be a nod.

“Don’t move your head too much, use your words.”

“A little, closing them helps.”

“You need anything?”

“No, I’m fine, just give me a second”, he buried his head further into Iwazuime’s shoulder.

“Uhu, sure.” Proper medical attention is what he needed. Iwazuime turned back to Mattsun who was regarding them with a look he couldn’t quite place.

“No, thank you, it’s probably best to just wait for the nurse, at least here he’s a little more comfortable here than on the floor. Can you notify the others about the current situation?”

“Yeah sure, call if you need anything else. You think he’ll be okay?”, he nodded towards Oikawa. If their captain could hear them talking about him, he wasn’t showing it. His eyes had fallen closed once again.

Iwazuime frowned, “Idiot wouldn’t tell me if he wasn’t.”

“We trust you to take care of him. And Iwa”, he placed a hand on his unoccupied shoulder, “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s Oikawa after all.”

Iwazuime only nodded. Oikawa’d had worse and survived, he would be fine, Iwazuime knew that, eventually he’d believe it too.

He let his eyes wander to the other side of the court for the first time since Oikawa’s drop to the floor. Sendai had been quiet throughout the whole ordeal, keeping to their side of the gym but throwing casual glances their way from time to time.

Now that Iwazuime could think about it, with the panic slowly easing from his mind, that spike had seemed deliberate, like it was aimed straight at Oikawa’s face. Sendai might not be up their standards, but their ace was not that unskilled as to blatantly hit someone right in front of him in the face... on accident that is. Hitting another player was clearly not an objective in volleyball, that’s one thing all players definitely knew. So, all that was left to conclude, with an icy certainty was that this was done on purpose.

Really, and that’s coming from you? Hypocrite.

 Of course, Iwazuime hadn’t just conveniently forgotten about how he himself served a ball to the back of Oikawa’s head all too often. Those hits weren’t nearly as hard as the setter made them out to be though. Iwazuime made sure of that.

His intention was never to truly hurt Oikawa. He despised seeing him like this in the same way Oikawa loathed appearing weak. It felt deeply wrong.

Maki pops up beside them, handing Iwazuime a jacket to pull over their captain. He leaned down to him, whispering under his breath, “They definitely did that on purpose”. With those words he confirmed what Iwazuime already knew as true, they had been damn obvious about it too.

A wave of anger crashed over him, Iwazuime welcomed it. Because it wasn’t an ‘unfortunate’ accident anymore in which Oikawa had gotten hurt, there was a culprit, someone that had intentionally harmed him, someone to blame.

Sendai’s ace was gloating with that smug look on his face. Iwazuime saw red, his hands formed into fists, his jaw clenched and he was more than ready to march over there and kick that bastard’s ass-when a low whimper came from the person next to him. Oikawa latched onto his shirt, blinking up disoriented, looking so damn vulnerable...-Iwa had other priorities right now. He unclenched his fists, relaxed his jaw as best as he could, Sendai could wait. 

That rare vulnerability on Oikawa’s face, that raw trust in the fact that he showed it to him, that he was allowed to see it... It made his chest feel weird. He didn’t quite know how to explain it. He placed the jacket around Oikawa's shoulders, tucking it in properly, trying to move him as little as possible. 

The truth was - the truth that Iwazuime only knew because he had grown up with Oikawa, seen every version of him, every side, the good, the bad, the ones he didn’t even acknowledge himself- as arrogant and obnoxious as Oikawa seemed to be...

He never felt quite good enough.

Someone was always stronger, faster, more capable, more experienced... better. His best friend had a profound inferiority complex, which was truly baffling given his achievements, his admirers, his strategies, his skill, his focus. But he wouldn’t put his bar any lower than ‘perfect’, the eyes of other’s didn’t matter when he didn’t want to see.  

There was cruelty in that ‘quite’, making him able to reach, to yearn, to come so close to succeeding that he didn’t stop trying, only to feel it slip through his fingers.

Just a little more and he could reach, a little more and he’d get there. Work harder, be better, be better than all of them. Iwazuime could all but see those thoughts spinning through his mind on loop.

Starting with a disadvantage, always behind, surrounded by people blessed with talent from birth. That’s how Toruu saw it, that’s why he never stopped working himself to be bone, to make up for something he wasn’t lacking.

But Iwazuime couldn’t get through to him. That was the most frustrating part.

Which is why he was currently stuck with an idiot who always crossing his own boundaries and needed a constant eye on him. Iwazuime didn’t stray from his side, he couldn't, he didn't want to.

And Oikawa, he put winning above everything, even himself and his own wellbeing. It didn’t matter if he had to play until he dropped down... As long as they made the next game, he didn’t care. As long as he could prove himself, he did. Not. Care.

Oikawa was so afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep up. Iwazuime, on the other hand, was afraid of Oikawa destroying himself (before any of his enemies even got the chance to).

Iwazuime didn’t think he knew Oikawa like the back of his hand, how could you ever truly, fully, confidently say you knew a person as complex, as intricate, as ambivalent as him?

Sure, he knew his habits, a considerable part of his history, his facades, his fears, his frustration, his anger & pain. Iwazuime knew what a genuine Oikawa looked like, something he showed disturbingly little.

But something Iwazuime would never be able to understand is why.

Why couldn’t Oikawa see himself the way he saw him. Why he would always chase an ideal that didn’t exist. Why was ‘good enough’, never good enough, but always meant be better.

Iwazuime knew him, but he couldn’t understand him.

Oikawa didn’t show that inner turmoil to the world, he was strong, he was prideful, nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him, he wasn’t weak, there were no soft spots to attack, he did not show vulnerability.

But right now, at this moment, he did, to him, an exception to his resolution.

And Iwazuime would never take that for granted. So he clenched his teeth, before guiding Oikawa’s head until it was properly resting against his shoulder again.

“Iwa?”, his voice betrayed his surprise at the unexpected care.

“Not a word.”

And he miraculously did as told without a single protest.

Iwazuime didn’t retreat his hand, instead opting to faintly rub backpieces of Oikawa’s hair between his fingers, his touch barely there. Oikawa doubted anyone was aware of what he was doing, maybe Iwazuime himself wasn’t even entirely conscious off it. Hell, Oikawa had a hard time believing it himself, but he wasn't pushing his luck, he merely leaned a little closer.

“You should get checked out”, Iwazuime broke the silence, but didn’t stop his caress of Oikawa’s hair.

“Later iwa-chan, let me stay here for a second”, Oikawa closed his eyes with an almost blissful sigh.

Bratty-kawa.

 “Don’t you dare pass out on me again, no falling asleep either.”

Oikawa patted him awkwardly on the chest, not wanting to move to much from his comfortable position. “Iwa-chan, relax.”

Relax? Iwazuime almost let out a hollow laugh at oikawa’s audacity. Relax?! As if he could ever relax with this dumbass around? Oikawa was vain as fuck, but when his actual health was considered, he never seemed to care as much as any decent person would.

He would comment on the smallest signs of another’s wellbeing without a second of contemplation or reservation, but he hid his own state of mind like it was common sense.

And then Oikawa smiled... And Iwazuime truly lost it.

“STOP!”, Oikawa’s face morphed to genuine alarm and underlying curiosity at his sudden (seemingly unprompted) outburst. The rest of the team was undeterred by their vice-captain yelling at their captain though. Truthfully, was probably the most familiar thing to happen in the last half an hour. He lowered his voice slightly with tight control, if only to be mindful of Oikawa’s head. “Stop, just... stop pretending, not in front of me. You should know by now it’s useless. I see right through that horrible fake smile of yours.”

“I-.”

“I know you’re in pain, I know it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Except maybe poking the bear, but that didn’t warrant an injury of any kind, that was just the way Oikawa was, and underhanded as it was, it was an effective game-strategy as well. It wasn't an invitation to hurt him.

“Don’t waste any energy hiding your suffering, we all saw that thing collide with you, we all heard you slam to the ground, we were all consciously aware of you being passed out, you’re not a god Toruu, don’t pretend to be. They will still look up to you, even when the see proof that you need help when you get injured, alright? Listen to me, there’s not a damn reason to pretend, so stop it already! What kind of example are you trying to set here anyway?”

Oikawa’s eyes were wide, his mouth dropped open quite considerably, as it took a moment for that to sink in. Iwazuime highly doubted it fully struck the way he wanted it to though.

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?” Leave it to Oikawa to give a completely nonsensical reaction to his statement. His friend stared at him for a moment, then his eyes slid to the other side of the gym, avoiding his pointed gaze. “Nothing, I... Nothing of importance anyway.”

What on earth was he referring to now? Obviously it wasn’t nothing. Iwazuime replayed the words in his mind...

Ah.

He slightly pinched the setter’s arm, Oikawa let out a yelp, “Au, Iwa! What was that for?!”.

Of course I look up to you Toruu, but not for reasons you would understand . He didn't say it out loud though, he couldn't, some things better remained unsaid. 

He didn’t answer, but repositioned the ice in his hand. It was starting to warm up considerably. And his earlier hiss of relief was anything to go by, the ice did seem to help relieve Oikawa’s pain. They might need some more if the nurse stayed gone for much longer.

Truly, Iwazuime highly suspected that he had at least a mild concussion, he had been slipping in and out of consciousness before managing to ‘wake up’, his eyes still had that cloudy look in them and don’t think Iwazuime hadn’t noticed how he was constantly pulling them close, he had no sense of balance whatsoever and his body was weak. It honestly surprised Iwazuime that the setter hadn’t thrown up yet. Not that Iwazuime was mad about it, Toruu would never live it down if that happened.

“Are you nauseous?”

“Huh what? No”, Oikawa huffed, offended.

Whatever the case, the second the nurse returned, Oikawa would get a proper check-up, Iwazuime would make sure of it. So right now, all they could do was wait for proper help.

 “It the ice still cold enough?”

“I’m not going to make poor Kindachi run all the way to the nurse again, it’s plenty cold. You should be able to feel that Iwa-chan, seeing as you’re fulfilling your besties duty of holding it to my head so dutifully.”

Iwazuime almost gagged, “Don’t. EVER. Call me that again.”  

“So mean and while im injured at that, you should be nice to me!”

“Stop talking so much!” Iwazuime fought the urge to give him a good shake himself, “You’ll hurt your head and tell me if it gets worse”.

“Of course, iwa-chan” Oikawa cooed in endearment, he must be feeling a bit better if he could manage at least that. He did seem livelier, gradually perking up again. “Are you worried about me Iwa-chan?”, great, he’s even able to ‘tease’, how wonderful.

Iwazuime tsssked, “your body isn’t a machine, you should be nicer to it.” Oikawa didn’t react any further, sufficiently satisfied with that answer, but he  barely managed to suppress a smile, a genuine one this time.

Maki looked at their exchange from a small distance. Those two always had the weirdest way of interacting with one another. The teasing and harsh words thrown at each other but a mere front for something much deeper, conveying messages that were never explicitly put into words.

Maki wondered what it would take for those two to finally dare vocalize what could already be felt clear as day. His captain often joked about his and the ace’s unbreakable bond, much to the latter’s aggravation, but they did have something... A wordless understanding that was rather rare.

And the third year couldn’t see those two belonging anywhere else but next to each other.

His friends’... ‘situation’ wasn’t priority right now though. Some fuckers had hurt his captain and well, maki wasn’t just going to let that go.

At the same time, Oikawa jerked up all of a sudden, turning to Iwazuime with a start.  

“Iwa-chan!! Does my face look okay? It’s not too bad, is it?”. Oikawa blinked at him with actual concern in his eyes.

That’s what you’re worried about?! Shittykawa, care more about important things! And didn’t I tell you to stop moving your goddamn head?! But at the same time, he was rather glad to have this Toruu beginning to return to him.

Outwardly though, Iwazuime just looked at him unimpressed as he firmly pushed him back down by the neck. “I told you not to move too much.” Then, averting his face so Oikawa couldn’t see his slight flush (cause it was getting hot with this dumbass leaning against him, okay?), he mumbled, “your face is fine”.

More than fine, even with a bruise on his forehead, Oikawa looked like a super model, it was honestly ridiculous.

“Now stay down... dumbass”, he grumbled with a scowl, but the words lacked bite. If Oikawa’s head were functioning a little more proper and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the term was used almost affectionately. He snuggled further back against Iwa’s shoulder, all but rubbing his face against him, the latter neither budging nor stopping him. Good thing Oikawa knew better... right?

He was getting more talkative as well. “We aren’t resuming the game?” Oikawa didn’t bother looking, the background murmurs throughout the gym and the absence of any volleyball-related sounds made it pretty obvious. Right now, snuggled up against Iwa with him pressing the ice against his head -a great help at managing the pounding of his head-, he didn’t particularly care too much.

“They did it on purpose.”

“Uhum” oikawa didn’t seem particularly surprised, immediately catching on to Iwazuime’s meaning. “Resorting to radical measures when they aren’t good enough to win”, his eyes brightened up with intensity, “pathetic”, truly.

He let out a sigh, bracing himself, “I’ll go have a chat with our guests”. Iwazuime pushed him back immediately, “you’re not going near them”.

“Huh?”, what kind of growl like sound had that been, could that even still be counted as words?

“They hurt you.” Well, Oikawa couldn’t really argue with that, could he?

“Sooo, I take it we’re not playing them anymore, like at all?”

“I don’t trust them one bit.”

“That makes crushing them all the more satisfying”, and Oikawa was fully confident that they could, with or without him on the field. And he really wanted revenge. 

“Not at the cost of our own player’s safety”, he looked Oikawa straight in the eyes, unwavering, “not at the cost of yours”.

Oikawa shivered.

Sure, his head was pounding with what would surely be a hell of a bruise tomorrow, if he was entirely honest, he did have a hard time concentrating on the situation at hand and keeping his eyes open wasn’t as evident as it should be. But for Iwa to be talking about his safety as if he was a knight protecting a damsel in distress...

Strange, very strange, the way Iwa was acting today.

Iwazuime look at the huddle the rest of their team made not too far from them. Mattsun and Maki had already reassured them Oikawa would be fine. Now most of them were casting glances at Sendai’s team varying from side eyes to full on glares, not trying to hide their resentment. As vice-captain, he felt pretty damn proud of them.

He narrowed his eyes at kyotani who was in the middle of throwing up his middle finger, itching for a fight. ‘Maddog’ might be unruly on the best days, but he was loyal.

Iwazuime didn’t feel like reprimanding him.

Yahaba had a hard time holding the growling second-year back, trying to prevent an escalation of the situation with a hissed “behave yourself”. Still his own glare towards the other team didn’t waver.

Oikawa followed Iwazuime’s gaze as he observed their players, who had easily caught onto the other team’s ulterior motive for themselves. The thought of those jealous bastards trying anything of the sort on any of histeam members sparked a wave of protectiveness in the captain.

“Agreed”, he simply said in reaction to Iwa’s earlier statement.

In the meantime Maki had had enough of the whispers and pointed looks and he marched over to the congregating team without hesitation.

“Assaulting our players? Are you proud of this kind of misconduct?”

The eyes of Sendai’s captain widened unnaturally, hand flying to his chest, his reaction of surprise way too over the top to be considered even close to genuine. It was a mockery. “Excuse me? What do you mean? Surely you aren’t implying...?”

Maki wasn’t having any of it, this two-faced asshole acting like he was all oblivious. “How else would you explain what just happened?”

“It was an unfortunate accident and on behalf of my team I apologize. I sincerely hope Oikawa-san is alright” The guy should try acting, he was better at pretending to be earnest than he was at being a volleyball captain. “But it was NOT intentional, I can assure you. Why would we do that? I understand you are upset your captain is injured, but-“

“Oh cut the crap, we all saw what happened. Your ace spiked that ball straight to our captain’s face.”

“It’s not our fault your captain got in the way, he could have moved.”

Maki let out a laugh of disbelief, then glared at him.

“As if you’d given him the chance.”  With the speed that ball was moving, no one was getting out of the way.

“Look, we will just apologize and be on our way. Let’s not make this into something bigger than it has to be.”

He turned to the rest of his team, “all of you, let’s just apologize, alright?” As if he was doing them a favor!

Maki couldn’t see what kind of expression Sendai’s captain made, but he knew a hypocrite when he saw one. He had barely spoken those words when their players started to speak up in protest.

“What?! Why?!”

“It was only an accident!”

“What’s the big deal, he’s clearly fine.”

“They’re acting like we did it on purpose”

“Pfff, Oikawa is just being dramatic to spite us”

“This is bullshit.”

“Captain, are you going to let them disrespect t us like that?”

And that damn ace, was that... a fucking smirk?

Fuck this. Iwazuime couldn’t watch it anymore. He motioned to Mattsun, passing Oikawa over to him. Both of them looked at him go with raised brows. What was he planning to do?

Iwazuime was seething as he stomped over to the group. Maki was scowling and a growl sounded from somewhere behind them. Yahaba must have a hard time keeping Kyotani under control.

And Iwazumi was tempted, he really was.

“Out.”

“Excuse me?”

Iwazuime didn’t have time for the captain’s bullshit, the longer that Sendai crap was in front of him, the more likely Oikawa wouldn’t be the only one needing the nurse.

And Iwazumi was tempted, he really was.

“You’re clearly lacking, not only in skill and sportsmanship, but also in intelligence. Get. out. Get dressed, take your stuff, I don’t care, but get the hell out of my face! I won’t tell you again.”

And he didn’t need to. Not wanting to risk the wrath of Seijoh’s vice captains any longer, they scurried out of there without any further protest.

Oikawa’s eyes were wide as saucers when Iwazuime returned to his side. He blinked a few times before finding any words, “wowie Iwa-chan, you’re terrifying, scaring those kids like that, I didn’t know you had it in you.” Oikawa was rather proud and well... angry Iwa-chan was pretty damn hot when it wasn't directed at him. Even hotter when he was getting angry on behalf of him. 

“They deserved it for hurting you.” And with that sentence, he might have just succeeded in a truly unbelievable feat: rendering Oikawa speechless.

After that it wasn’t long before Kunimi returned with the nurse in tow. She took one look at Oikawa’s state and told them to help him to her office, it was highly likely he had a concussion.

It only took 10 minutes (and an emergency trip to the bathroom) to confirm that he indeed had one. Iwazuime stayed with him as the nurse left to call his parents.

“Hey Iwa?”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“What on earth are you babbling about now? The nurse told you to rest.”

He had half expected an “Iwa, you’re so mean!” in reaction to that statement, but Oikawa was calm, oddly serious as well.

“You know. for helping me and for defending me back there.”

There was a long pause.

“Don’t say unnecessary things.” Like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I was wrong’, ‘thank you’ wasn’t part of his friend’s usual vocabulary. Iwa must admit that it wasn’t part of his own either.

Oikawa didn’t answer. Iwazuime glanced at his friend, wondering if he had passed out again.

Brown eyes met his.

“You were very sweet, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa turned his eyes back to the ceiling, focusing on a spot of peeled off paint. “I liked it”, he whispered. He was smiling again, not that horrible fake one that had become second-nature this time, but a soft one, an uncomplicated one, a real one.

“Idiot” Iwazuime mumbled under his breath, simultaneously fighting the urge to run his fingers through the other’s ridiculously soft locks. Brattykawa always says the weirdest things just to get a reaction.

Oikawa sank back into his own little world, replaying today’s events through his mind. Honestly, he hadn’t thought his teammates would worry over him like this. Part of him might have expected just getting an ice pack thrown to his face and getting yelled at for being too overdramatic.

Then again, his teammates were caring, weren’t they? Even if they didn’t always particularly liked him, as he was sure, that care still seemed to extent to him as well. Oikawa would be lying if he said he wasn’t stunned... and moved. He was self-aware enough to realise he could be an asshole, after all. 

He shot a quick glance at the person next to him, who hadn’t strayed from his side. And then there was Iwa...Always sending mixed signals, not that Oikawa minded it too much. After years of being close friends, he felt very secure in the knowledge that Iwa could yell at him in boiling anger and still care about him all the same. Besides, who would trouble themselves with reprimanding someone if they weren’t worried for that person?

It was Iwa’s messed up way of showing concern, what else could it be?

After all, he still bothered with Oikawa, despite knowing every single unsavoury side of him. Despite all their shared history or perhaps because of it, Oikawa had never managed to push Iwa away. He could count on him, could trust Iwa to not stray from his side, he could trust Iwa.

It felt good knowing that.

And Iwa could be nice too, not only to others, but to him as well, today only one example, but there were others. Cherished moments. He closed his eyes with a wistful smile, how nice it was to feel cared for.

Iwazuime left Oikawa to rest at the nurse’s office not long after that. His mom was on her way to take him to the doctor and the nurse was with him, he’d be fine.

Besides, Iwazuime still had a little errand to run that couldn’t quite wait.

That errand might have involved waiting for a certain too smug bastard outside the locker room...

And then pulling him aside, somewhere they could talk in peace and silence, tucked away safely from anyone who would be able to hear them.

He didn’t even leave a mark or anything, barely touched the guy really, just straightened his collar that’s all.

It wasn’t his fault that the guy was so weak he all but got dragged against a wall, all accidental of course. Honestly, from that perspective, Iwazuime was just trying to save someone from falling to the floor.

Just one big misunderstanding, wasn’t it?

Like how the guy in question misunderstood that it was okay to hurt their captain.

Now that wouldn’t do.

Toruu may have some dark and nasty sides to him. Sure, he was headstrong, arrogant, annoying and prideful. He could be manipulative, wasn’t above using some nasty tricks here and there, and was surely conceited at times...

But he played fair, he was a talented player, a hard worker and a good captain. He was better than all of them combined and nothing of that had just been handed to him. Not to mention, he truly cared for their team and their players.

So Iwazuime would be damned if he’d just let some Stupid. Ignorant. Jealous. prick deliberately hurt him.

He wasn’t just going to let that slide, NONE of them would.

That’s why, like the considerate person he is, Iwazuime made sure to straighten that out, make them understand each other.

So something like this wouldn’t dare happen again.

Ever.

No one laid a finger on Oikawa Toruu. Not on his watch.

BONUS:

“Hey Iwa”

“What?”

“You know, normally when the princess won’t wake up, the prince kisses her.”

“...”

“But I wouldn’t take you for a prince anyway, so I guess that just proves it once more.”

“Shut it, Shittykawa”

“Guess that makes you like a troll or something. Ooooor maybe a dragon... Hmmm, yeah I guess you can be my dragon.” Or a knight, he mentally added, Iwa would make a good one of those.

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Chapter Text

Daichi shouldn’t have let it come this far.

He should have intervened after the third unconvincing “I’m fine” that had come out of Suga’s mouth.

He should have sent Suga home, the second he heard that nasty cough leave his mouth.

No, by then it would have already been too late. Daichi should have insisted Suga stay home this morning when he was greeted by only half his boyfriends face, the rest obscured by a face mask and a thick scarf. He was very clearly sick and he was very clearly not fine, but Suga had a cunning way of convincing people and easing their concerns. 

Leave it to Suga to not care about his own wellbeing, while being overly concerned about everyone else in his vicinity. Put plainly, if Suga was scared of infecting anyone else, going as far as to implement a 5 feet personal space circle (in which Daichi wasn’t allowed either, making the walk to school this morning slightly awkward), then he was too sick to come to school.

Why his stubborn boyfriend had done so anyway wasn’t too hard to guess though. He despised missing school. A flawless attendance was very important to him, he took school very seriously. He had always been that way, as long as Daichi knew him anyway. In middle school he had once made it almost an entire day, only for him to fall asleep during reading hour, followed by the teacher discovering he had high fever. Safe to say this wasn’t unusual behavior for Suga, as maddening as it might be.

His ridiculous boyfriend faced him with what Daichi would assume was a smile, if his eyes were anything to go by: “I would just feel frustrated if I had to stay home.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

“Suga.” Daichi had never made a secret of the fact that he didn’t agree with Suga’s tendency to forgo his own needs.

“I know, I know, ‘this isn’t healthy’, but I’m fine Daichi, honestly, I would have felt miserable at home, missing practice, boring myself to death-“. “You would have rested at home, you need rest when you’re sick.”

It was hard estimating Suga’s state with the face mask obscuring his face and the distance the other was keeping. But Daichi’d already discerned the more raspy, hoarse sound of his words and the occasional sniffle. Suga’s steps also lacked most of their usual enthusiasm and he had adjusted his pace so his boyfriend could keep up with him. The fact that Suga hadn’t noticed it or said anything about it, was the clearest sign of all that he was out of it. Suga was very observant, he noticed the subtlest of details, so much so it could be unnerving at times.

They kept talking as they entered the school and the changing rooms. They were a little later than usual and judging by the shoes already there, Tanaka, Hinata, Kageyama and Noya should already be in the gym.

“I promise, if it gets worse, I’ll go home, but we have that important test today, I already studied for it and I only felt slightly off this morning, so it should be fine. Plus, I can’t just leave you with the team alone, I have vice-captain duties you know.”

“They don’t come at the cost of your own wellbeing.” Daichi is careful with casually stating that the team can handle a day without Suga. First of all, because Daichi very much doubted if they truly could. Survive a day? Sure. But he couldn’t stress how essential Suga was, for their team as a whole and certainty as support to Daichi. Being captain without Suga’s optimism, care and empathy, was unthinkable.

Second of all... he didn’t want Suga to feel like an unnecessary team member, because he clearly wasn’t, but Daichi knew that it remained a sensitive topic for him and he didn’t want to call any attention to it. Still, that didn’t mean Suga had to minimize his own health concerns just like that.

“I know, I know, I’m fine, I’ll take it easy today”, they stopped before the gym doors and Suga turns to him, cupping his jaw with one hand. His thumb brushed over his cheek in a comforting motion. His fingers were cold, but his eyes held a warmth that melted Daichi’s heart. How lucky he was that this beautiful person had chosen him.  

He would just keep an eye on Suga, send him home the second he got worse, it would be fine.

Daichi opens the door to the gym and immediately the pair gets greeted by their unruly bunch of first and second years.

“Sugawara-senpai, can you set for me?”, came yelled from the other side of the gym, an overexcited orange ball of sunshine jumping up and down. Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose, are there any hours of the day when that kid’s energy levels go down?

Suga waved and yelled back, “I’ll be right there Hinata!”. The hoarseness of his voice was coming through clearly now. Suga ‘smiled’ once more at Daichi, before turning around to go help their ‘greatest decoy’ out. Daichi caught him around the wrist before he could successfully leave.

His boyfriend raised a questioning brow at him. “Suga, wait a s-“ “Daichi, can I talk to you? I need to make sure these orders are correct.” Kiyoko looked up from her clipboard and raised a suspicious brow at their position. “Am I interrupting something?” Suga released his wrist with ease, patting Daichi’s hand. “Nothing at all” he jogged backwards, making a shooing motion and mouthing a “go on, I’ll be fine” to him with a sweet smile (once again Daichi could only assume by the look of Suga’s eyes, but he knew his boyfriend well enough to recognize his smiling face). Still he was concerned by what else Suga might be hiding under that face mask.

Daichi sighed watching him go, then turned to Kiyoko with a smile “Yes Kiyoko, sorry, what can I help you with?”. Kiyoko eyes went from him to Suga currently at the other side of the court, question clearly in her eyes. Daichi didn’t say anything, so she decided to let it go. “Yes, about the...”.

Morning practice went over without a problem, but Daichi had been so preoccupied with making sure the orders for the spring high preliminaries were all in order and then coach had called on him for tactic consultation, and then Noya and Tanaka had almost broken the basketball ring (don’t ask how on earth they’d managed that). In the end, he had so swept up in all of it, that he’d very much failed to keep an eye on how Suga was doing.

The guilt weighed heavy in his stomach as he ran up to him. “Suga, you okay?”, he placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature, “You feel hot”. “That’s cause I’ve been practicing, dummy”, he smiled wide, his eyes crinkling. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Was Daichi growing paranoid or did his breathing sound off? Was he more out of breath than he let on? Had he overexert himself during pra-

“Come on, we should head to class before we’re late.” Daichi nodded, trying to shake the worries from his head. Suga wouldn’t lie to me, he wouldn’t go through a full practice if he couldn’t handle it, he’s always reprimanding others to take better care of themselves. He let Suga take his wrist to lead him away, not missing how his grip was more clammy than usual.

The day progressed quite calmly, but seeing as Suga sat before him in class, Daichi couldn’t tell much of how he was actually doing. Then he got roped into helping the teachers during lunchbreak, so he couldn’t check in with Suga then either. At this point he was getting frustrated. He just wanted to make sure his boyfriend was okay, was that so much to ask?! But the universe seemed against him today, because as the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, he hadn’t managed to get even one single second of alone time with Suga since this morning, which was hours ago.

He was just about to walk to his table, when he was stopped yet again. “Daichi-san?” He stopped, clenched his fists, let out a breath, then turned around. “What?!” It was one of his classmates, clearly startled by his seemingly unprompted outburst. “Euhm, the vice-principal wants to have a word with you.” He pointed towards the door, where Daichi could see him waiting. Quite impatiently, might he add. He sighed internally, if this was about the basketball ring, I swear to God.

He looked at Suga, who was still sat at his desk, slowly packing his stuff away, with desperation. One of their friends walked up to his boyfriend, showing him a textbook, probably asking him something about the homework or one of their lessons today. Suga was helpful and kind like that. He would make for a great teacher. He was patient and the best at explaining things. Despite his frustration and concerns Daichi couldn’t help but smile thinking about how wonderful his boyfriend was.

“Can you tell Suga that I’ll meet him at practice?”, he asked their classmate, still in front of him. The one who obviously caught him ogling his boyfriend with a lovesick stare, if his awkward fiddling and averted eyes were anything to go by. Daichi would tell him himself, but by the looks of it the vice-principal was not in a good mood. Which was bad news for Daichi.

After much groveling and apologizing, because the vice-principal had indeed wanted to talk about the basketball ring, Daichi hurried to practice. Noya, Tanaka, I’m going to make you do diving drills until you can’t feel your limbs anymore. There was a terrifying look on his face as he stomped through the hallway, murderous intent in his eyes. Good thing the hallways were all but empty at this point. 

When Daichi finally entered the gym, Suga wasn’t there. He grabbed the first person that passed him by, “where’s Suga?!”. Asahi’s eyes went wide in response to Daichi’s alarm and he barely held back a flinch. “Euhm, I think he went to the bathroom? Daichi... are you okay?” Daichi almost shook the tall ace in frustration, “Me? Am I okay?". Who the hell cares? "Is Suga okay?”. Asahi frowned, “Suga? Is something wrong with Suga? He was here a minute ago”. He looked around for the tell-tale silver hair of the setter. Daichi latched onto him, “how was he doing? Was he looking alright? Was he coughing a lot? Was he pale? Did he look sick?”

Daichi hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed the other’s shoulders and started leaning in, until Asahi was inching back from him awkwardly. “I-I don’t know, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to him, I’m sorry”, he rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed, then held up his hands, jumping to correct himself, “not that I was ignoring him or anything, it was just... I was focused on practicing my spikes, so I didn’t see him come in and then-“. Daichi forced himself to let go, take a step back, breathe. “It’s fine, Asahi. Just... Tell me if you see him, alright?” He pinched his nose with a sigh as he looked around the gym.

Minutes passed... Daichi wasn’t one to comment on the length of another’s bathroom breaks, although Hinata’s could be unnaturally long, but this was taking too long.

He still wasn't back. 

Was he okay? 

Had something happened? 

What if-

Maybe Daichi should go check on him. He was just about to do that, when the unmistakable yelling of their two most disruptive first-years caught his attention. And he groaned, he actually groaned out loud in frustration, before stomping over to their side of the gym with a menacing air around him.

Behind him the gym door opened and then Suga did enter the gym, finally. Daichi glanced over, his shoulders not even able to slump in relief when he actually got a good look at him.

Oh no.

Before him, Hinata had just managed to successfully tackle Kageyama to the ground and the setter wasn’t happy about it. “Hinata, you useless dumbass, I’ll kill you!” “Not before I kill you first, Bakayama!”

Daichi should have paid more attention to Suga as the day progressed, he had seemed fine this morning, looking slightly less put together than he was accustomed to, sure, but he was his usual upbeat self, smiling and talking, assuring Daichi he was fine, despite the runny nose, the rougher voice and the occasional cough.

Looking at him now, Daichi felt his heart sink to his stomach. Suga is naturally pretty pale, ‘porcelain skin’ as Daichi often mentally described it. Right now, though, all color seemed to be sucked out of it, making him look almost gray-like. There were dark circles around his eyes that Daichi had failed to notice this morning, they were pink-rimmed and bloodshot as well. Sweat glistened on his forehead despite practice having only just started and he looked faint and weak, his form slightly slumped over, his feet dragging.  

Suga should go home, he was clearly sick. Seriously sick. Not the small cold he had played it off as.

And Daichi needed to go check up on him.

How had no one else noticed Suga's state?

As if you didn't only notice just now. He's YOUR boyfriend, you should be the one to make sure he's alright. The nagging voice in Daichi's mind was making his chest ache with guilt. 

As he tried to make quick work off separating Hinata and Kageyama, his eyes kept flying back to Suga every few seconds to make sure he was still there. Daichi knew he was unfocused and distracted and honestly, he couldn’t really care all that much about the fight in front of him.

Suga was doing a gradually worse job of trying to hide his coughs that were coming out very frequently now. His smile was strained, and when he thought no one was looking it completely disappeared. Honestly, it looked like he could barely keep himself upright.

“Both of you, quit it! Right. Now! Or I’m making you sit out all the games to do drills instead!” That did it, both of them froze, still holding on to each other as they were sprawled on the floor. “Get up and I better not see anything even close to fighting from you two for the remainder of the day, got it?”

“Yes, captain!”

Why did today of all days have to be so full of chaos?! Daichi was getting dragged in all possible directions with the first-years bickering even more than usual, Coach Ukei constantly calling on him to review strategies for their upcoming training camp, Noya and Tanaka who couldn’t be left alone for a second without wreaking havoc, Kiyoko needing answers to so many question... It definitely showed that Suga, his most valuable support, wasn’t feeling his best today. Everyone was so hyperactive, Daichi felt like he was babysitting a bunch of toddlers.

“Euhm, captain?” “Hinata, wait a second, I need to-“, Daichi was watching Suga closely, his eyes were looking weird. Wrong weird. His own hand twitched as if willing him to move and he opened his mouth to call out to him.

Daichi wasn’t the only one that had seen it. Suga swayed on his feet and stumbled. Asahi- standing close-reached out on reflex to steady him. “Suga? Are you-“, his eyes widened as Suga’s body went slack against him. “S-Suga?!”, but Suga’s eyes were closed and he had gone completely limp. 

Daichi never ran so fast in his life.

The noises around him dissapeared, he couldn't see anything else, his thoughts focused on only one thing. 

Suga had fainted, he’d fainted, right in front of him and Daichi hadn’t been there.

“Daichi?”, Asahi’s panicked eyes met his as he reached them, the ace had gone pale as well, “He-he just...” Daichi swallowed, stay calm, “Let’s lay him down, gently”. Kinoshita handed them a sweatshirt to place behind his head, before taking a step back as well. Suga barely budged through any of it, his hands were ice-cold, yet his forehead was burning up as Daichi brushed the damp hair from his clammy forehead. Daichi made quick work of removing his face mask so he could breathe properly. The motion revealed his flushed cheeks and pale, cracked lips.

He recalled Suga’s bright, angelic smile, so often directed at him and guilt circled around his heart. Daichi knew Suga, he knew Suga would insist he was fine even when he was clearly not. Suga, more than anything, hated being a bother.

Daichi could hit himself right now, what had he expected? The silver haired setter had insisted he was fine when he’d broken an actual arm when they were first years, he’d insisted he was fine when his grandpa had died, but Daichi would never forget the muffled sobbing from the bed beside him. Suga had insisted he was fine when he was no longer Karasuno’s official setter, even though Daichi knew that it’d hurt him, that the feeling of not being able to do anything for the them, of uselessness was tearing him up inside.

Suga always insisted he was fine, paired with that bright smile of his and those comforting eyes. Daichi couldn’t recall a single instance in which Suga had honestly answered that he wasn’t. His boyfriend would probably still insist he was fine when he was literally bleeding out, so yeah ...

Daichi definitely, DEFINITELY shouldn't have let it come this far and the guilt was tearing him up inside.

He was incredibly pale, the veins under his eyes standing out in stark contrast against his skin tone. A gust of wind would be enough to blow him over. It hadn’t even taken that, he’d fallen down all on his own.

Behind them, chaos unfolded as the rest of the team shook of the shock of what was happening. “Is Sugawara-san alright? He did like a thump, and a whoosh and then there was a WHAM!” HInata’s lip started trembling as he saw their vice-captain lying on the ground unmoving, “Kageyama”, he pulled on the other’s shirt without taking his eyes of Suga, “Suga-san...”. His eyes grew moist, “Suga-san isn’t death right?”, he blubbered. 

Kageyama didn’t answer him, regarding the situation with stoic eyes. Sugawara was the best senpai, just today he’d helped Hinata a ton, tossing to him and kindly assisting him with his receives. Now, he was lying on the floor and Daichi looked so worried, and Daichi always knew what to do, but he looked worried right now, so he probably didn’t know what to do, and if he didn’t know what to do, then who-

Noya raced passed him, “WE NEED TO PERFORM CPR!”. Tanaka wasn’t far behind, yelling “Leave it to me!” with an arm raised into the air. Noya pointed to himself with fierce determination, “I know how to do it, I once saved an old lady from drowning. I can save Suga-san!”. “Please save Suga-san, Nishinoya-senpai!”, Hinata wailed.  

Hinata kept running around all panicky, annoying Kageyama –who was already on edge- into exploding and Noya and Tanaka were quarreling about how would be the one better suited to perform CPR. Eventually Tanaka yelled at all of them to “Shut up”, which worked for a second, but then the bustle started all over again... All of them were talking through one another and Daichi’s head felt like exploding.

He closed his eyes, felt his erratically beating heart and forced himself to take a breath. STAY. CALM.  “Everyone step back please, give us some space. Asahi, you stay.” The ace seemed to be the only one listening to him, a look of apprehension on his face as he stared at Suga’s relaxed face in between them with a solemn, “yes captain”. But the rest of Daichi’s instructions fell on deaf ears.

Noya yelled in the background, Kageyama and Hinata were fighting again, Tanaka was doing God knows what... He couldn’t filter it out. There was too much going on, Daichi wanted needed to focus on his boyfriend. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!

“ENOSHITA! PLEASE, get all these idiots away from him”, he bit out. Enoshita appeared at once, in seconds he was dragging Nishinoya and Tanaka away. The two so shocked by the sudden intervention they didn’t even think to protest. And when they got a look at Daichi’s face instant guilt appeared on their face. They weren’t helping at all, were they? They were only making matters worse. 

Yamaguchi handed Daichi a cold towel, then turned to the remaining first-years, (mostly Hinata, who was still sniffling violently), “Come on guys, shouldn’t we give them some space?” “But Suga-san might die!”, Hinata wailed dramatically, grabbing his shoulders. Tsukishima popped up beside Yamaguchi, flicking Hinata’s hands off of his friends’ shoulders with a look of disdain. Yamaguchi was secretly rather grateful for Tsuki’s intervention, Hinata’s close, panicked attention made him squirm. “He won’t die, you unbelievable idiot, besides his chances of survival will be much bigger when the two of you aren’t anywhere close to his vicinity”, his tone couldn’t be more condescending if he tried.

Kageyama openly glared at him, only to stumble when Hinata dragged him away by the arm. “Come on Kageyama, let’s stay as far away as possible!” At once Kageyama’s hostility turned towards the orange-haired boy all but hanging on his arm. “Let go of me dumbass!”, he tried to shake him off.

Hinata was just annoying and Tsukishima was an asshole, it wasn’t like he was concerned about his senpai or anything, he just... wanted to check if he was okay, that’s all. Kageyama would be fine without him, like, theoretically. Sugawara was kind and... warm-hearted and all... BUT IT WASN’T LIKE KAGEYAMA WAS FOND OF HIM OR ANYTHING, ALRIGHT! He supposed he did look up to the third-year and of course Kageyama wished he could connect to other people like Suga could, but he couldn’t. SO WHAT?! He glanced at his vice-captain lying on the ground, with Daichi leaning over him and Asahi beside him. He would be alright, the other third-years were taking care of it. It would be fine.

“All of you, get away, right now!”, Daichi was using his “don’t-fucking-try-anything” voice, which meant business. He had other things to focus about right now damnit, and their bickering was distracting him. The first-years immediately took off.

Finally. Daichi exhaled, then softly traced his boyfriend’s cheek. “Suga, sweetheart?” The other let out a low moan, mumbling something. That was good, a reaction was good. “Sug, can you hear me?”, he kept brushing under his boyfriend’s cheek, trying to ease him into opening his eyes. “D-dai?”, his voice sounded so faint and weak. Daichi kept his own voice soft, all but a whispering, gently talking to him. “Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?” “Uhum.” The teary hazel-brown eyes he adored so much blinked up at him not even a second later.

“Are you okay?” Suga righted himself slightly, clutching his head, “I’m okay, just got light-headed for a second.” “Easy, Suga, don’t move to suddenly.” “It’s alright Daichi, I’m feeling better already”, he tried to smile but coughed instead, his hand grabbing onto Daichi’s shirt. “Suga-“, he placed a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s back, his face full of concern. Suga caught his breath, then turned to Asahi, “thanks for catching me Asahi, sorry for giving everyone a scare. I’m fine, truly.”

“Suga-“ “Daichi, it’s alright, I barely fainted.” “You didn’t ‘barely’ faint, you collapsed, because you’re way too sick to be here!” Asahi hesitantly spoke up from behind him, “Dai, you-you shouldn’t yell at him.” “What?!”, Daichi turned to him, “I’m not yelling! Oh..”. Asahi winced, Daichi didn’t realize when he’d started raising his voice, but the stress of the day was catching up to him as well. Someone placed a gentle hand on his arm, he looked down to see Suga looking at him with concerned, half-drowsy eyes. You aren’t supposed to be concerned about me, damnit!

“Dai, can you help me? I want to get up”, he said it so sweetly and he looked so out of it, Daichi could do nothing but comply. With him and Asahi on either side of him, he helped Suga up. He stumbled, all but tripping with his weak legs. “I’m alright”, he sheepishly reassured as if on instinct. “You. Are. Not” Daichi grumbled, tightening his hold to support him. Truly, what kind of boyfriend was he just watching idly by as Suga got to a state like this?

They made it to a bench, where Suga all but ended up in Daichi’s lap. No one dared say anything about the affectionate display though, it was so not the time. Kiyoko bended down before him to check his eyes. “Sugawara, you shouldn’t come to school when you’re sick.” “Yeah...”, Suga tried to squint away from the light, but Kiyoko wasn’t letting him (where on earth she even got that little light from was a marvel on it's own). “Yeah, I'm beginning to get that...”, he looks up at her with a tired, guilty smile, “you’re right”.

“Do we need to call his parents?” Asahi had directed the question at Daichi, but Suga answered before he could, turning in Daichi's arms, head leaned back against him comfortably. “I’m fine, I’ll just head home. My parents are still at work right now, anyways.” Daichi knows as well as him that they’d drop anything to come get him, Suga just doesn’t want to worry them. “I’m coming with you.” Suga opens his mouth and Daichi knows that look, knows he’s about to decline, wave his help away, minimalize his illness...

Diachi doesn’t give him the chance to.

“Suga, I’m coming either way, whether you protest or accept it, so stop wasting energy fighting me.”

“I’m fi-”

The thread snapped.

Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m fine, truly. I’ll be fine. It should be fine. I’M FINE.

Daichi grabbed his arms, forcing Suga to face him. “YOU ARE NOT FINE!” Daichi didn’t yell like this too often, well he tried to avoid it anyway, but when he did you better pray it wasn’t directed at you. The Karasuno captain could be more terrifying than any team they’d faced. “It’s not fine! You are not fine! You are sick and in pain! And I’m taking you home!” Suga was stunned speechless, everyone was stunned speechless, they had never, never seen Daichi yell at Suga like that, it was... shocking to say the least. The words were firm, leaving no room for arguing. Then, Daichi cupped his boyfriends face gently, concern shining through the determination in his eyes, “okay?”.

Suga barely managed a nod, his face suddenly hot for an entirely different reason. Dominant Daichi was so hot (and that wasn't the fever talking).

Daichi pulled his boyfriend closer in silence, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and placing his own around the other's waist, properly supporting him. “Dai, you don’t-“ “Suga, I am supporting you or so help me god, I will carry you.” Suga snapped his mouth shut, yes sir!  “Ennoshita!” Daichi called out without looking back as he lead Suga out. “Yes, captain?” “I’m taking Suga home, can you handle things here?” “Sure, no problem.”

“Get well soon, okay?”, the second-year called out after him. Suga nodded back at him with a small smile. Immediately a chorus of “Get well soon, Sugawara-senpai”, “Please don’t die” (followed by a “Dumbass, stop saying that!”), “Get enough rest, okay?” and “Don’t push yourself too hard” rang out. Suga felt himself grin, as he managed a small wave towards the rest of their teammates. His heart was fluttering in affection for their chaotic little volleyball family.

“Your mom is not going to be happy”, Daichi scolded as he helped Suga up the stairs, stopping for a second to check up on him, “You okay?”. Suga nodded, a rather unconvincing motion when taking in his limp body and lifeless skin, but still he kept walking, even if he was rather hanging from Daichi at this point. “My mom goes to work running on 4 hours of sleep and half a cup of cold black coffee, she is no one to talk”, he weakly supplied. “SUGA! It’s not a competition!”, Daichi’s face looked like a combination of horror, anguish and anger. Suga’s eyebrows pulled together apologetically, “too early for jokes, noted. Sorry.”

Daichi sighed, “come here”, he held out his free hand. “Dai, I can make it up the stairs just fine, it’s just a stupid, little illness.” Daichi did not relent. There was nothing stupid NOR little about it. Eventually, Suga did place his hand in his with a little pout. Daichi lifted him with care, one strong arm under his arms, the other curled behind his thighs, pulling him close.

Despite his pale complexion, there was a slight blush discernable on Suga’s cheeks as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “You okay? Not dizzy? Am I holding you too tightly?”. “I’m okay”, he eased the other’s worry, pressing a soft kiss to his neck-the only part of Daichi he could currently reach, “and you’re perfect, thank you”. Suga enjoyed his boyfriend’s warmth as he effortlessly carried him up the stairs.  

It might make him a spoiled brat, but he enjoyed the intimacy of being pulled close in Daichi’s arms like this tremendously. Just the two of them in their own little world, as many parts of them touching as possible. With secure hold surrounding him like a safety blanket.

His pleasure was rather short-lived though. They had barely made it to the changing rooms, Daichi having put down Suga to open the door, when the latter almost bend over with the force of his coughing. Daichi helped him into a sitting position on a bench and handed him a water bottle. Suga took it gratefully, hands shaking and started chugging it in heavy gulps. “Easy, you’ll choke if you don’t slow down”, Daichi pushed the bottle down gently. Suga’s eyes were teary, slightly unfocused, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Daichi wiped Suga’s mouth and the tears from his cheeks with a gentle hand, his own brow pinched with concern. He gave Suga a moment to catch his breath. “Dai?” “Yes?” “Can I have a tissue?” Daichi’s heart twisted at the sweet request, Suga’s voice sounded raw, his throat must be sore. He hurried to retrieve some from his bag, crouching before Suga with the intention to help him, but Suga stopped him with a weak hand on his wrist. His smile was slight but warm as he looked at Daichi with half lidded eyes and a sparkle of mirth, “I can blow my own nose, but thank you, your dedication is noted...”. He placed another loving hand on Daichi’s cheek, “and appreciated, sweetheart”.

“I should take you to the nurse instead.” “Nonsense” Suga waved it away while simultaneously blowing an impressive amount of snot into the tissue. “It’s just a cold, my mom said they have been going around this time of year.” “You need medicine” “Nothing some hot ginger tea and a cold pack can’t fix.” “And rest”, Daichi added with narrowed eyes, rubbing his thumbs over Suga’s wrists.  

He paused for a moment, then took a seat beside him, not letting go of the other’s hands. Daichi exhaled, weighing his next words carefully, “why did you come to school Suga, it truly isn’t worth it”. His eyes only portrayed concern. Suga sighs at the sight of it, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s leg to comfort. “That has been clearly pointed out to me today, yes.”

He toys with the fingers still holding on to his other hand, “I’m sorry for worrying you Daichi, I... had underestimated this cold.” His eyes were a bit more clear now as he looked at Daichi, the sincerity in them clearly shining through. Daichi intertwined their fingers, “you shouldn’t minimalize your own suffering.” “Daichi...” “Please.”

“Let’s go home, okay?”, Suga averted his gaze and all but jumped up, quickly avoiding the topic. Daichi was immediately there to place an arm around his waist, steadying him. “Don’t jump up like that, it’s dangerous. Suga, be careful.” “It’s fine, I think I can walk, my legs feel stronger already”, but his smile looked strained. Daichi is going to officially ban the word ‘fine’ from Suga’s vocabulary after today, the amount of disdain he has for that two-syllable term is uncanny.

“Suga, please, please stop saying your fine, when you’re very clearly not!”, he placed his hands on the other’s shoulders, looking him square in the eye, trying to convey his exasperation to him. “Daichi...”, Suga’s shocked gaze softened, “calm down.” Always so caring for another. “I am-“ “You’re not, come on”, he pulls his boyfriend down on the bench again.

The silver-haired setter places his own head on Daichi’s shoulder, a hand on his chest, nestled against him comfortably, “breathe, you’re so tense.” Daichi huffed, but leaned into his boyfriend like it was second nature (which at this point it was), “of course I’m tense, of course I’m not okay, you were passed out on the floor, and I-I...”

“I’m truly sorry I scared you”, Suga nibbled on his lip. “Don’t apologize for that, it isn’t your fault Suga, I should have looked out for you better.” Daichi knew, he knew how Suga was when his own health was concerned, how neglectful and minimalizing he could be and still he... “I always seem to fail at taking care of you.” At once Suga sat up to face him, a hand still on his chest, eyes distressed. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t, Daichi, you never do. It was stupid of me to keep going when I was feeling sick, I should have known when to stop.”

“And I should have been there immediately to stop you.”

“it’s not your responsibility”

“It is, your wellbeing is important to me, very much”, his eyes were pleading and guilty-looking. With a loving gaze and at loss of words, Suga leans his head against Daichi’s shoulder once more, hoping to convey some of his unmeasurable affection in this way because he couldn’t find the words. Daichi’s hand automatically comes up to cradle and then stroke his head in a tender, intimate gesture.

”Hey, Dai?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s just agree to disagree, alright?”

Daichi huffed, Suga continued undeterred.

 “And you’re the very best at taking care of me, you spoil me so much, I am the luckiest guy in the world. I’ll do my best returning that care and being more careful.”

“Sug-“ “Sshh, just take the compliment Dai, okay? And while you’re at it... Don’t take the weight of the world on your shoulders, alright?”, he peeked at Daichi, the slightest bit of color returned to his cheeks, a playful smile gracing his lips. Daichi loved this person so damn much.

"It's okay to rely on other's Suga, at the very least me, I hope you know that." 

A short pause, then "I know" accompanied by a squeeze of his waist. 

They sat there for a while, Daichi didn’t know how long, it felt like an eternity and still too short, it was nice, comforting, peaceful. Suga’s breathing slowed and Daichi righted himself the slightest bit, earning him a half moan. “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” “Hmmmm no?”. Suga’s answer was dragged out, his voice heavy with sleep, his eyes had long since fallen closed.  

For a moment Daichi considered having an adult drive them instead, but that might take too long, be too much hassle, he wanted Suga to be comfortable and resting as soon as possible. His parents were probably still at work, as were Daichi’s and coach Ukei and Takeda-sensei weren’t coming to evening practice today...

Still, Daichi looked at Suga snuggled up against him, he already knew what his answer would be if he were to ask him. Fortunately, Suga didn’t live too far from school and his mom was great at stocking up on medicine and other “sickness-necessities”. Daichi made up his mind, besides, if walking proved to not be an option, he would carry Suga home without hesitation. After all, it was quick, easy and less-straining for him. That Daichi just so happened to love carrying him had nothing to do with it.

“I’m taking you home, come on. You will be much more comfortable there.”

“Will you stay with me?” Suga hesitated, blinking up at him. “I don’t want to get you sick as well, but I’m feeling awfully selfish right now.”

Daichi leaned in closer, rubbing their noses together affectionately, “Be as selfish as you want with me Suga, I like it.” He brushed the damp hair from the other’s forehead and Suga nuzzled into his hand like a content kitten. “I love you, you know that, right?”, he whispered.

Daichi smiled warmly, “I would never doubt it. And I love you, even though you’re an idiot sometimes.” Suga scrunched up the bottom of his shirt in one of his fists in an endearingly possessive gesture. “Well, I’m your idiot, and you’re mine”, the words were spoken so decisively and lovingly, Daichi didn’t mind being Suga’s idiot (at all). “Yeah”, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and grabbed his dangling hand pressing a kiss on it, “I’m your idiot”. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not long after that and after making sure Suga was really all right with walking home, the two set to motion. Daichi made sure his boyfriend was properly bundled up in his own coat and scarf, then wrapped his own scarf around him as well for good measure, not taking no for an answer. Tucked in with his ears and nose now safely covered, only hazel-brown eyes were still peeking out. Daichi was relieved to see, that despite his pale complexion and his weakened form, that inherent Suga sparkle still remained in his eyes.

He put Suga’s gloved hand in his own pocket, before wrapping his own arm around the other’s shoulder to tuck him in tightly against him. Suga’s bag was resting safely on his own shoulder. Suga had tried to stop him, “Daichi? You shou-“, but Daichi had shut him up with a loving kiss against his forehead. “Hush, I’m taking care of my boyfriend, now let’s get you home.”

Suga didn’t protest or say he was fine, he just leaned in closer and let Daichi do just that.

Daichi’s smell and warmth surrounded him and his heart overflowed with love, a welcome distraction from the current strain on his body. Sugawara had, without a doubt, the absolute best boyfriend and he was so very lucky this beautiful human being had chosen him.

Later that night

“Dai, NO!”

“What? What is it?”

“You can’t kiss me, you’ll get sick!”

“Suga-“

“Nope, absolutely not”

“Come here, you know I have a good immune system, a cold isn’t going to take me down.”

“Oh, so now it’s just a cold?”

“...”

“Just one kiss, what’s the harm in that? I’ve been around you all day anyway.”

“I don’t care, we need our captain for our next match.”

“Our next game is in two weeks and it’s a practice match.”

“I don’t want to hear it, I thought you were responsible.”

“Where do you get this energy from, weren’t you sick?”

“Yes, and you’re making a sick person run laps. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“Got ya.”

“Dai, I mean it, I don’t want you to get sick.”

“And I want to kiss my sweet, cute, caring, selfless, amazing boyfriend goodnight.”

“...”

“Come on Suga, just a small peck, please?”

“A small one?”

“Uhu-hmm.”

“But just a tiny-hmmm.”

The nasty cough that would plague Daichi for the next couple of days had been well worth it, even when it had earned him a particularly hard elbow jab from his oh so lovely boyfriend.

Chapter Text

Ushijima & Tendou

And then Ushijima took his hand and got down on one knee.

“Euuhm, are you asking me to marry you Wakatoshi?”

It was a joke, of course it was a joke, anyone would be able to tell it was a joke.

Ushijima shook his head in earnest.

Tendou let out a relieved cackle almost immediately, see of course he-

“Not yet.”

Not yet...

NOT YET?!

He snapped his eyes back to the ace. 

“I wish to have established my career first, so I can properly provide for us.”

Oh my.

-----------------------------

Kuroo & Kenma

"What's the ick-face for?"

“I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

"..."

“Kissing.”

“You lost me.”

Kenma huffed in annoyance. “They always make it seem like something ... 'enjoyable', but I just don’t see how exchanging saliva could ever feel 'nice'.”

Kuroo chuckled, even when he felt his face heat up. “It’s not just 'exchanging' saliva, Kenma.” The other didn't look convinced in the slightest.

And then, Kuroo said something he probably certainly shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t take it back once the words were spoken, settling between them heavily. 

“Wanna try it?”  

-----------------------------

Bokuto & Akaashi

“Oh, and you can bring your boyfriend as well.”

Akaashi paused.

“Boyfriend?”

“Yeah? You know the guy who texts you night and day, tall, loud, always has an arm wrapped around you? That's your boyfriend, right?"

People thought Bokuto was his boyfriend?

Akaashi watched a look of confusion settle on the other's face at his lack of an answer, his lack of confirmation.

People thought Bokuto was his boyfriend.

-----------------------------

Sakusa & Atsumu

Atsumu was 17 when he fell in love for the first time.

He had been at the youth intensive training camp and he was gay.

He was totally, inescapably, a 100% gay.

Kiyoomi Sakusa had just single handedly confirmed his sexual orientation and Atsumu didn’t know how to feel about it.

-----------------------------

Iwaizume & Oikawa

And iwazuime was angry, because they’d come so far. They’d played so well. For Oikawa to undo all their efforts. All his efforts.

They hadn’t be useless. He had been an exemplary captain. He had made no mistakes.

He grabbed Oikawa by the shoulders and the setter expected a rough shake, a slap, a head butt, or at the very least some plain old yelling.

What he hadn't expected was for Iwazuime to pull him in and crush their lips together. 

Iwazuime mumbled about how the setter was being an idiot. An absolute dumbass. About how well he’d played. How his pride remained undettered.

Now, Oikawa was blushing.

Iwaizume clenched his fist and pulled him in again, Oikawa’s vulnerable side wasn’t good for his sanity.

-----------------------------

Daichi & Suga

The first time Daichi had kissed Suga was when they were 10 and he’d thought the other had stopped breathing. 

Their 'first' kisses got progressively better after that.